More Trouble than He's Worth
by FlutteringLights
Summary: A series of bromancy one-shots in which Merlin is hurt/sick, and Arthur stubbornly helps him. Also featuring Gwaine and Lancelot for good measure. Also taking requests. DISCONTINUED and adopted by 4verunwritten.
1. Migraine

I'm going to make several disclaimers right now.

First off, I don't own Merlin. As shocking as that must be for all of you, it's true.

Second of all, I'm not a migraine sufferer. I make this statement because some of you readers probably do get migraines. They're not uncommon. I wanted to make it clear that if I describe things inaccurately, it's because I've never experienced it. I'm going on hearsay and imagination. Any notes on what I'm doing right or wrong would be appreciated.

Lastly, the story is a little bit Merlin/Arthur, but it's really a friendship fic. If it comes off as more, then it's only because I tend to overdo the male bonding. And possibly partly because I'm listening to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack as I write it.

Come what may…

Anyway.

Please enjoy the story!

Merlin woke up to a headache so bad that he wanted nothing more than to turn over and go right back to sleep. However, he did not—partly because he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again through the throbbing and partly (but only a very small part, mind you) because he had duties to fulfill for a certain pratly young Prince.

So, despite the opposition from his aching head, he left his chamber and walked into the next room where Gaius was preparing a thick porridge of some sort.

He did not feel hungry—on the contrary. He felt a bit nauseous. But he knew that not eating anything before a day of work would only make him feel worse, so he forced a few bites before leaving for Arthur's room to wake the sleeping Prince.

It was swelteringly hot outside, which slowed the young warlock's pace considerably. Because he hadn't slept in or taken the time to eat a decent breakfast, he might have actually been _on time_ for once, if it hadn't been for the bloody heat and his bloody headache.

By the time he actually arrived in Arthur's room, he was sweating and utterly miserable. His eyes protested every light that shined in them and his head throbbed with every noise and movement that was made.

From Merlin's entrance alone, Arthur would not have suspected anything to be different about his manservant. The door swung open without so much as a knock and immediately the warlock was creating a racket in an attempt to hastily straighten things up to compensate for being late.

It wasn't until Arthur opened his eyes and stared the servant down with a glare that should have struck him dead on the spot that the Prince noticed the awkwardness of Merlin's movements. Sure, the boy was clumsy. Before meeting him, Arthur hadn't known that one person could even _be_ such a walking disaster.

But this was different. His useless, disrespectful servant flinched with every noise that was made, and his hands lacked any strength or grace to their gestures and almost appeared to be shaking.

"Merlin?"

"Up, prat." His usual smirk was gone, and he moved deliberately and abnormally slowly.

Arthur pretended not to notice.

"Your breakfast is served." Merlin's tone was barely above a whisper.

"Aren't you going to draw the curtains?" Arthur asked. That was logically the first thing that should have been done. Did Merlin expect him to eat in the dark?

"I suppose if you really need the light, I could do that…" His offer seemed hollow, for he made no move to actually touch the curtains.

"Well, unless you have some kind of sudden moral opposition to a lit room, then that _would_ make sense. Any decent servant would have figured that out before I had to ask, _Mer_lin."

His words had no meaning, the Prince's only goal was to get a rise out of his servant. Insulting him usually did the trick. Half of him expected that remark to return Merlin to his usual self, but his plan failed. The dark haired male stood in front of the curtains hesitantly before squinting and opening them wide, as he did every morning.

Arthur seemed pleased that his order was fulfilled, but Merlin's pained expression did not go unnoticed.

Merlin angled himself so that he was facing away from the window. The light in the room was painful, but preferable to looking directly at the source.

"Alright, I'll ask you outright. What's the matter with you today?" Arthur asked, fed up with both waiting for Merlin to begin complaining by himself and with trying to decode him.

"I don't know what you mean, Sire," he said, trying to sound convincing.

"You know I could put you in the stocks for lying to me, right? I wouldn't hesitate."

Merlin paled at the threat and decided that, even though he believed that Arthur was exaggerating, even the slightest possibility that he would have to spend any amount of time in the sweltering heat with the overwhelming sunlight and people throwing things at hishead was a danger real enough to tell the truth.

"It's just a little headache."

Or, at least, part of the truth.

"Ah, well. You can close the curtains back up if the light is bothering you. I don't really see why you hid it from me, if it's something that trivial." He tried to seem relatively uncaring, but did take the consideration to lover his speaking volume, at least.

Arthur hadn't expected him to actually close the curtains, and was a little surprised when the light that had once filled the room dimmed significantly and his eyes had to readjust slightly, but he _had_ given permission, so he couldn't complain. Plus, Merlin seemed to be more comfortable in the darkened room.

_His headache must be a little worse than I supposed._ The Prince thought, still mostly oblivious to the world of pain that his scrawny manservant was experiencing.

"I had plans to practice combat outside today. Think you can survive it?" The question was dripping with sarcasm, but truly was asked in earnest. If Merlin felt the need to decline, he wouldn't hold it against him.

Much.

Merlin scoffed, not even taking the offer as a serious one because of Arthur's tone.

"Of course I'll survive. It takes a little more than a headache to get rid of me, _Sire._"

Merlin could spit out that word like no other man Arthur knew. It was infuriating, but somehow comforting as well. If Merlin had the energy to attempt to make the Prince's life a living hell, he surely was fine for combat.

"Glad to hear it. We'll begin as soon as you get me dressed."

"That soon?"

"Well of course, _Mer_lin. It's going to be a dreadfully hot day, so I want to get some training in before it's too hot to do anything."

Merlin said nothing. The Prince slipped out of his once hushed tone and was talking in his full, obnoxiously loud speaking voice. Everything sounded like a declaration with this man, Merlin noticed sorely.

Getting Arthur dressed had not been exactly pleasant, but also not intolerable.

Merlin was slowed by the fact that any jarring movements sent spasms of pain through his cranium, and the Prince had not taken kindly to this fact.

He began to yell at Merlin, but stopped when he flinched in obvious discomfort. It registered for the first time that his servant was indeed trying his best, so he decided to be more lenient.

Just for today, of course.

Everyone had their off days, and Arthur certainly wasn't cruel. He teased Merlin, sure. Called him names like "useless" and "idiot", but only because they were all true statements. The Prince didn't have any ill-bearings towards the fellow, though.

Quite the opposite, really. He'd formed a bond with him.

By the time Arthur was fully dressed in his battle armor and Merlin in the armor he wore when practicing with the Prince, Merlin felt miserable. He began to doubt that he would be able to last the whole day in this sort of pain, and contemplated telling Arthur as much.

However, he refrained because by the time he made a definite decision to back out of training, Arthur was already barking orders at him to block the attacks he was making on the boy.

Every time the metal clanged, it rang inside his head and throbbed until he thought he might be physically ill. The metal was shady, mainly because he had only a small square to see out of, but the sunlight bounced off the light dirt and back into his eyes excruciatingly. All this combined with the heat of the day, the fact that he was sweating more than normal with the increased exertion every movement took, and the fact that he had hardly eaten anything over the course of the day began to take its toll on the warlock's body. The pain was more intense than anything he could remember feeling before.

First he felt nauseous. His stomach rolled, and he felt that he could be sick. Trying his best to stop moving with Arthur still swinging at him, he took a few steps back to get his bearings.

The next thing he noticed was that he felt a numbing sensation throughout his body. At first he couldn't tell whether he was cold or hot, but as the moments passed, he decided that he was definitely burning. Unbearable heat radiated inside his metal suit, adding to the rolling of his stomach.

The final thing he noticed was that his vision went black. This was the frightening part. He was standing, but felt unsteady and couldn't see anything at all. All sounds became distant and dull.

The blackness didn't last long before his limbs went limp and he could no longer fight unconsciousness.

At first, Arthur didn't even realize that Merlin had fainted. He was a clumsy boy, and often tripped or was knocked over during their training sessions.

It wasn't until he walked over to his unmoving body and outstretched his hand in assistance that he noticed that Merlin was not conscious.

"Merlin? Hey, you idiot, can you hear me?"

No answer.

Arthur frantically got off as much of Merlin's armor as he felt necessary and called another servant to fetch cool water.

He put a hand to Merlin's forehead to see how overheated he was, and found it surprisingly void of fever. It was a little warmer than it should have been, but certainly nothing that should have made him collapse.

It was only a few moments before Merlin came to. The pain in his head was worse than ever, and he no longer had the armor to block out the offensive sunbeams.

He suddenly became aware that Arthur was talking to him.

"…right now, Merlin? Should I send for Gaius?" Merlin was lying on his back on the ground, wearing significantly less armor than he had remembered sporting before he collapsed. Arthur was kneeling next to him, shouting much louder than necessary out of fear and urgency.

"I'm right here, stop yelling," he moaned. "I'm fine. It's nothing serious. Leave Gaius alone, he has work to do. I just want to go inside," Merlin mumbled, so quietly that Arthur had to strain to hear him. They boy laid his arm over his eyes in an attempt to shield his eyes from the sun.

"Of course, we'll go inside once you're fit to stand again. In the meantime, keep lying down. How do you feel?"

The servant let a low groan escape his throat. He was definitely in too much pain now for the "I'm fine" game.

"My head hurts." He moaned miserably.

Arthur smirked. "I would imagine. You probably knocked yourself stupid falling on the ground like that," he teased. Taking another glance at his ill looking manservant, he offered again, "Should I have someone get Gaius?" more gently as an afterthought.

"There's nothing he could do. And the headache was the cause, not a side effect."

"You fainted… because of a headache? I've never heard of such a thing."

"It's really bad," Merlin replied, his voice barely audible and pained.

The Prince was slightly worried now, but feigned indifference anyway. "I gave you the chance to decline training, _Mer_lin. You should have said something."

"You mean in your room? That was hardly a choice! You said that if I could survive, then I should come. Obviously I'm still alive, so I would have been lying." The boy said in a harsh cross between a whispering tone and a yell.

"Had you told me that you were going to faint like a _girl_ then I would certainly not have made you come out here."

"Well, coincidentally, had I _known_ that I was going to fai—collapse valiantly, I wouldn't have come out here, either."

Arthur almost chuckled. Even now he was insufferably disrespectful. The younger man was still lying on his back with one arm draped over his eyes, angry but in too much pain to do anything about it.

The laughter in his face died away, however, when Merlin shot into a sitting position suddenly.

"Merlin, I think you should keep lying down for a little while. Can't have you fainting again," Arthur coaxed while trying to push gently on the boy's shoulder to get him to recline again, but the servant was having none of it.

His face went a shade paler and he put a hand to his mouth and closed his eyes tightly, feeling as if he might lose the small amount of food he had eaten that day.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Arthur asked; worry starting to seep into his voice. Merlin looked really ill.

He left the question unanswered, not really trusting himself to speak quite yet.

The silence upset the older boy further. He began to stand up. "I'm getting Gaius. Don't move from this spot, I'll be right back."

Merlin reached up and grabbed the Prince's wrist, eyes opening despite the brightness of the sun, and Arthur crouched back down to look at his face.

"I'm just sick to my stomach. But it passed. Can we please go inside now?"

"If you think you can walk. I'm not carrying you to my room."

Merlin nodded, and stood, with the help of Arthur, and the two walked towards the inside of the castle. The servant leaned on his master of support, putting more and more of his weight on him as they walked closer to the castle.

As they began up the stairs to Arthur's room, Merlin's vision went blurry. _Another side effect_, he thought bitterly. The next thing he knew, his foot underestimated the step and he tripped.

Thankfully Arthur was already holding most of the boy's weight; when he felt Merlin seemingly go limp he picked him up as gently as he could, so as not to further aggravate the pain, carried him to the top of the stairs, and set him down.

Merlin looked up at him questioningly, squinting at the light in the room. The headache had died down significantly now that he wasn't outside with Arthur beating on his metal armor.

Arthur didn't say anything, and the boys walked to his room without another word or incident.

The servant stood awkwardly in the center of the room, desperately wanting to lie down again, but knowing that to do so could get him in a lot of trouble. Servants did not sit down in their master's rooms while they were supposed to be working.

He was relieved when Arthur guided him to the bed and said, "Just lie down already, imbecile."

The Prince chuckled slightly when Merlin did lie down—face first.

"What are you doing?"

"It blocks out the light," he answered quietly, hardly making an effort to lift his face from the fabric of the bed to be understood.

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. "Just be sure you don't asphyxiate."

Merlin made an affirmative whimper, and the Prince decided to busy himself with other things that would be quiet while the servant slept (or tried to).

About an hour passed uneventfully. Merlin had not made a sound in so long that Arthur was beginning to wonder whether or not he should be concerned.

Just as he approached the bed to ensure that his friend was still breathing, the boy on the bed began to stir. He turned over and sat up slowly, blinking tiredly.

"How are you feeling?" Arthur asked him in the softest voice he could manage.

Merlin smiled. "Better. Completely exhausted, but at least the headache is gone."

Arthur smiled back in relief. "So, does that happen often?" the Prince tried in a jesting manner, but not without undertones of concern.

"Not often, but it's not the first time. Actually, it's the third since I've arrived in Camelot. This is the first time it's been that bad, though—I've never passed out from them before. Gaius says they're from overwork and stress," the warlock answered.

"Well, next time it happens, just stay home. I don't want to see you in that kind of pain again, and I especially don't want to see you trying to work through it. I've never seen anyone experience that kind of pain from illness and live through it. I was…." Arthur trailed off, thinking he's said too much.

"Worried? Afraid?" Merlin finished teasingly.

"Of course not! Merely… slightly concerned."

"Really! Do you carry everyone you're 'slightly concerned' about up the stairs?" What remained of Arthur's fear for the servant's well-being disappeared. If he was making jokes and laughing again, he must be feeling better.

"If you tell anyone about that, I'll have you thrown in the stocks," Arthur quipped with fake irritation.

"It's a deal… provided that you don't tell anyone I fainted."

The boys smiled at each other and shook hands, verifying the promise to not speak of the incident again.

The Next Day

As Merlin followed Arthur down the stairs on their way to combat practice, they were stopped by Gwen.

"Arthur! I've been meaning to talk to you! I just wanted to say that I thought it was incredibly sweet the way you carried Merlin up the stairs yesterday after he fainted," she chirped.

Arthur and Merlin looked at each other and paled.

So much for their secret.


	2. Low Blood Sugar

Woot! Story number two! I'm so motivated! What keeps me even more motivated is reviews :D so if you don't mind, tell me how I'm doing with writing! Thank you to those who have reviewed already!

Again, I don't own Merlin.

If I did, there would be so much more bromance…

One thing I'd like to clarify before I get too far into this series is that these events are supposed to happen independently. Like, if you're reading one story, then the others did not happen. Does that make sense? Almost like every story is a different world. I say that because I think Arthur would get _really_ tired of picking up his collapsed manservant off the floor very quickly…

But I never get tired of it. ;D

ONE MORE IMPORTANT THING. If you have any requests, I will gladly consider them! Quite possibly I will write them, as long as they're not… well, sex scenes. XD I'd actually be really honored if anyone wanted me to write something for them :D You can PM me or leave a comment!

Without further ado, here's the second story in the series.

Low Blood Sugar

Merlin was having a hard time of things. Between the stress Gaius was putting on him for getting chores done and the living hell that working for Prince Arthur always provided, he barely had any time for breaks.

It was late in the evening. Merlin usually would be returning home at this time, but not today. Arthur was in rare form, and livid with the young servant for not getting his chores done in a timely manner.

As he finished cleaning Arthur's room, he began to feel extremely tired. He needed rest. The warlock walked hesitantly behind the Prince, who was sitting at his desk looking over maps for his next hunting trip.

"I finished cleaning your room, Sire. Will that be all?" he asked hopefully.

"No, _Mer_lin. You still have to polish my armor, remember? I told you to do it earlier, but you obviously failed to, so you will tend to it now," Arthur said, standing, grabbing the heavy armor and shoving it into Merlin's arms.

"I didn't have any time!" the warlock protested.

"Well you have time now," the Prince said with as much annoyance as he could possibly muster in his voice.

Merlin sighed and resigned, hoping to finish the task quickly so he could go home and eat something. When was the last time he had done that? He could hardly think straight, but could feel the gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach that told him to eat something quickly.

Ignoring his stomach and moving on to the task at hand, he left the room feeling slightly nauseous and weak. After walking to the next room to polish the metal suit, he began to feel even worse. Dizzy and sick.

He threw the armor on the table with a loud crash, and his vision went black and he began to feel very hot. The boy couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this weak. Resting his head on the cool armor and sinking to the ground, he allowed his eyes to shut and give him a moment's peace and relaxation.

A very brief moment. The next thing he knew, Arthur burst into the room shouting angrily.

"I heard a crash, what did you break this time? If you dent my armor, I'll have you thrown in the stocks!" He yelled, making his way towards the mess, not yet noticing his collapsed servant.

Merlin was still on the floor. It registered in his mind that he should be saying something, but he was so tired and felt so woozy. Surely Arthur could keep himself content yelling for just a few minutes while the servant got his bearings enough to stand and justify his actions?

Arthur, still yelling, walked towards the pile of the armor that was strewn across the top of the table and the floor around it. As he approached, he was finally able to get a closer look at his servant.

"Merlin? Is something wrong?" he asked, crouching to the boy's level.

"I'm not sure. This came on suddenly…" Merlin replied, still not looking up from his semi-recumbent position.

"What do you mean by 'this'? Are you hurt?" the Prince's voice was close and still irritated, but slightly concerned.

"I'm okay, I just got really dizzy… and my vision went out," he answered, opening his eyes for the first time, seeing that he could see again. "But that's passed now," the warlock added.

Arthur called to another servant to bring him some water to drink. She returned quickly, delivered the water, and bowed out of the room silently. The Prince handed the goblet to Merlin to drink.

"My hands are shaking; I'll spill it," he warned.

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes, but held the goblet steady in his servant's hands while he drank.

"Any idea what caused this? Did you hit your head on something? Are you bleeding anywhere?" Arthur asked, taking a short pause in between each word to prevent sounding too concerned for the boy.

"Not really. I'm not hurt; I was just standing here and suddenly felt faint."

The Prince grunted in understanding and continued to think of possible sources of the problem. As he thought, he realized that he hadn't seen the servant take a break all day, or the day before either.

"When was the last time you ate something?"

"Breakfast."

"Ah, well then that shouldn't be-"

"Yesterday."

"What?"

"The last time I ate something. Breakfast yesterday."

"You haven't eaten at all since yesterday morning?"

"I haven't had the time."

"Do you really think that I wouldn't have given you a break to _eat_ something if you'd asked?" Anger surged through him. "Why didn't you say anything? Do you not trust me?" The anger dissipated into offence, and he felt slightly hurt.

"It's not that! I trust you with my life. I just had other things on my mind. I've been so busy… between the work you give me, and the chores Gaius gives me, I don't have the time for anything else," Merlin admitted, averting the Prince's prying eyes.

He sat on the floor with Arthur at eye level like a child being scolded, and subconsciously shrunk away from the larger man.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "If you're so busy that you're not eating properly, then I can get a more competent servant to handle some of your chores. I don't want you collapsing in my chambers again. Speaking of, we should get you some food before you pop off."

Merlin smiled awkwardly. "I'm not going to die, you prat," he laughed. Arthur tried to help him to his feet, but he was still shaking.

Standing made the dizziness and lightheadedness come back. He leaned heavily on the Prince, who did not take kindly to the gesture. It irked him.

"This obviously is not going to work. How about you stay here and I go get something for you to eat?" Arthur asked, irritation in his voice prevalent.

Merlin shifted uneasily, feeling uncomfortable having the Prince offering to do a service for him, but nodded when he analyzed how badly he really felt. His head ached, his muscles were weak, and he was hungry, thirsty, dizzy, and shaking.

Arthur stood to leave, but before exiting, turned towards Merlin once more.

"Don't move from that spot, I'll be right back," he assured, and the boy nodded again. He didn't feel like moving, anyway. He didn't feel like moving, anyway. Not only did he feel like passing out again, but he was so tired. It was so hard to stay awake. The warlock closed his eyes, and soon sunk back into unconsciousness.

That's exactly how Arthur found him ten minutes later when he re-entered the room with a plate of meat, potatoes, and fruit and a goblet full of water. Fearing that Merlin had passed out again, he set the food on the table and crossed towards his servant and began to shake his shoulders.

"Merlin? Can you hear me? Wake up," he said sternly, trying to keep his voice calm. Breathing a sigh of relief when the boy stirred and opened his eyes, he cleared the table of his armor, helped Merlin to a chair, gave him the plate, and sat down across form him.

"Thanks, Arthur. I know it's not very traditional for a Prince to help a servant like this, and I appreciate it. You're not always as much of a prat as you seem to be, you know that? You're a good man, and you'll be a great King someday."

Arthur's cheeks turned pink by the slightest of shades, and now it was his turn to fidget uneasily. There was a silence as he tried to think of a response.

"...Stop rambling and eat before you keel over."

Merlin laughed and did as he was told. Arthur sat across from him the whole time. There were moments of conversation about everything from girls to daily responsibilities, and there were moments where they sat in silence just enjoying the company and thinking.

When the servant had eaten all he cared to, he stood to take the dish back to the kitchen to be cleaned when Arthur stopped him.

"We need to talk for a minute."

"Arthur, you don't have to. I know what you're going to say, and I'm sorry for making such a commotion in your chambers. It won't happen again."

"Of course it won't; I'm going to make sure of that. I'm not mad about the ruckus, Merlin. It worries me that you haven't been eating enough for your body to even retain your normal state of uselessness and you didn't even say anything. Why didn't you tell me?"

"You're the Prince and I'm your servant, Arthur, don't take it personally. No offence, but there's not really any obligation on my part to tell you every time I skip a meal…"

"No, I'll admit that. However, you should take into consideration that it's also not a requirement of mine to pick up my collapsed manservant off the floor and give him his first decent meal in two days, so I thought maybe you might mention it as… I'm not sure. All I know is that I like the annoying Merlin who complains constantly better than one who suffers in silence and doesn't get help when he needs it."

Merlin seemed to consider this before smiling and speaking again.

"Alright, it's a deal. I'll complain more," he smirked teasingly.

Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed, annoyed but smiling. "Don't overdo it. Just let me know you're having a problem sometime before you faint like a _girl_."

"Fair enough." There was an uncomfortable pause, and Merlin stood and walked back towards the pile or armor still strewn about the floor. He sat down to finish polishing it.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" Arthur asked dumbfounded by Merlin's stupidity.

"I'm finishing what you asked me to do in the first place, Sire. Is there a problem?"

"Just go home and sleep, Merlin. Eat breakfast tomorrow. You can finish in the morning. I don't require your services any longer for the night," he said dismissively.

"Yes, Sire," he responded gratefully. He turned to leave, but thought better of it and spun back around to face the Prince. He hugged him around the shoulders briskly. "Thank you, Arthur." With that, he was on his way back home, leaving Arthur smiling despite himself and shaking his head.

"_Idiot,"_ he thought fondly.

End


	3. High Fever and Hallucinations

Hi everyone! I want to thank you all for reading, favoriting, and reviewing. You're awesome! My new goal is to update weekly.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin.

I'm working on a requested prompt, but this popped into my head as I was writing the other one and I couldn't resist. Just putting it out there, I'm very open to requests! Thank you for those who have requested, and keep them coming everyone! Let me know how I'm doing! Should there be more bromance, or am I overdoing it? Do you have a specific ailment that you would like to see, or a specific situation, or a specific reaction? Should Gwaine or Lancelot get in on the action? Please tell me! :D

And now, on to the story.

High Fever and Hallucinations

A metal water pitcher clattered to the ground for the second time that day, slipping from Merlin's fingers and startling both servant and master. Arthur looked over at the boy to yell at him, but decided against it.

"You look horrible," the Prince said after giving Merlin a scrutinizing look. The servant was shivering and sweating at the same time, and red in the face. He swayed on his feet, looking unsteady and generally confused.

Merlin stood in front of Arthur awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. It was late in the afternoon, and no matter how he cursed his luck, his day was far from over. The young warlock had fallen ill with a fever overnight, but came in to serve the Prince despite feeling achy and terrible.

Arthur noticed that the young man was sick as soon as he walked through the door, but Merlin had assured him that it was just a cold, nothing to worry about, and that he was perfectly fine to assume his normal duties. Arthur had accepted this answer and put him to work for a few hours, but now it was getting out of hand. Enough was enough.

"Just go home, Merlin. You're excused from duties for the rest of the day. Get some rest, will you?" he ordered. He put his arms on the boy's shoulders to force him gently out the door when he did not move, and felt a great deal of heat radiating from his slender form. He was burning up.

"Wow, be sure to have Gaius give you something for that fever. Can you make it back alone without collapsing, or should I have one of the knights escort you?" his tone was slightly mocking, but he truly did have his concerns about his manservant.

"I'll be fine, thanks," he said very slowly. He sounded almost drunk, which worried Arthur further, but he nodded anyway. Merlin stumbled out of the room in a stupor.

The Prince sighed and picked up the pitcher, walking to his door to call another servant to wipe up the water that had spilled. Not finding anyone close to his chambers, he walked down the hall a ways looking for someone to clean the mess. However, his quest was delayed when he heard a shout coming from down the hall.

_That sounded like... Merlin?_ His casual walk turned into a jog as he tried to locate his obviously distressed servant.

As he rounded a corner, a body smacked into his full force, nearly knocking him over. He looked down to see who was pushed up against his chest, shaking and breathing heavily. Merlin.

His hands instinctively rose to the shoulders of the boy, but it felt awkward to have them there, so he backed up a step held them up in a "hands off" position. Merlin looked up at the Prince, eyes wide, fever-bright, and unfocused.

"Arthur, we have to get out of here. Run," he instructed urgently, pulling the older boy's arm in an attempt to guide him away from danger.

"Hold on a minute, Merlin, stop! What's got you so frantic?" Arthur asked, gripping the younger man's biceps to keep him still.

"A wyvern. In the castle. We have to get you out of here, it'll kill you! Come on, run!" Merlin insisted, trying again to force the Prince to follow him. However, Arthur didn't believe him for a moment.

"A wyvern? Here? That's impossible, Merlin. I think you're delusional. We should get you to Gaius-"

"No, Arthur! How are you not seeing it? Look! It's right over there!" the warlock was shouting and pointing wildly, nearly frenzied.

"Merlin, there's nothing there. How could a wyvern have gotten into the castle without anyone taking notice? You're hallucinating. You need to see Gaius," Arthur said in the most authoritative voice he could muster. Merlin was having none of it, though, fully convinced that both of them were seconds from being killed by giant cousins of the dragon.

"Never mind how it got in, that's not important! We need to get out of here!"

Logic was obviously not the best approach to calming a delusional, hysterical Merlin. Arthur had to think of a better way, and fast—the boy already was boiling with fever, and being so worked up was not helping matters. He needed to see the physician, and quickly.

"Okay, Merlin. I believe you. But running will make it worse. We need to walk, we're going to Gaius's chambers. It… won't follow us there because… it will stay in the castle," he fabricated, hoping Merlin would believe him in his delirious state. He did.

The warlock nodded, as if the story made perfect sense, and Arthur began to lead him to the physician.

They were a little over halfway to their goal when the manservant collapsed. Still desperately trying to keep his pace to evade the impending danger that he adamantly believed was behind them, he would have fallen on his face had Arthur not been the perceptive man he was. He wasted no time, picking the young man up and slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes he carried him the rest of the way to Gaius.

He would have been much more irritated, he thought, but an unconscious Merlin was probably preferable to a panic-stricken one.

The Prince opened the door to the physician's chambers, finding Gaius pouring over a potion of some sort. He looked up and raised an eyebrow, quickly getting up from his chair after noticing his seemingly lifeless ward.

"Sire?" he questioned, motioning him towards the patient bed, in which Arthur deposited the unconscious boy.

"He was ill, so I sent him home. Not five minutes later I find him running down the hall, hallucinating about wyvern attacks," the Prince explained, noticing with some irritation how ridiculous the whole thing sounded.

Gaius had a hand to the young man's forehead. "He's got an extremely high fever; we need to cool him down. I'm going to get some water and cloth, will you stay by him? I fear what he might do if he wakes up alone in this state," the physician asked. Arthur nodded, and as Gaius left the room, Merlin began to stir.

"Did we outrun them?" he asked, looking distant and seeming even less lucid than before he passed out.

"Outrun what?"

"The wyvern, Sire!" he explained, as if it was obvious.

"Oh. Um, yes. Sure did. Narrowly escaped," the Prince lied.

"Really? I don't remember it."

"Good, because it never happened…" Arthur muttered under his breath.

"Will you tell me how we managed to escape?" Merlin asked. The expectant and pleading look on the servant's face prevented him from saying no as he so desperately wanted to.

"Well, we… uh… walked out of the castle. But the wyvern followed us the whole way. I managed to kill one with my sword, but there were still more. So I… grabbed a torch off the wall, waved it in the air by their faces, and they flew away back to where they came from. And here we are now." It was a pathetic story, but it contented Merlin, so Arthur was satisfied.

Gaius entered shortly after with water and began to cool the boy's burning skin. As his fever went down, Merlin gained more and more lucidity. Arthur sat next to him as he went from bumbling nonsense to a state of average coherency.

When they felt he was clearheaded enough, Gaius began to question him.

"How do you feel?"

"I'm alright. My head hurts and my body aches, and it's freezing in here… What happened?"

"You-"

"You were hallucinating and then you bloody collapsed!" Arthur interjected.

"Really? I don't remember that…"

"Of course you don't, you were feverish out of your mind. You were terrified, spouting rubbish about wyvern in the castle. Then, after I finally managed to convince you to come see Gaius, you fainted like a _girl_. I had to carry you here, _Mer_lin."

The manservant was quiet for some time. "I'm sorry, Sire. I didn't mean to trouble you so much," he apologized, avoiding his master's eyes.

Arthur hesitated, not wanting to make his ailing friend feel worse, but at the same time, not wanting to let him off too easy. As much as he hated to admit it, he was worried.

"…Just don't let it get this bad again. I don't want to see you in my chambers tomorrow if that fever isn't completely gone." He reprimanded.

"You needn't worry about that, Sire; I'll make sure he is sufficiently healthy before he goes anywhere," Gaius promised.

"Good. Now, I must be going. Make sure you don't die, Merlin. My chainmail needs polishing when you're not delusional," he teased, clapping the younger man's shoulder as he stood.

"You bet. Thanks, Arthur," he said, smiling at the Prince before turning over in bed and drifting off to sleep.


	4. Infected Battle Wound

Hi everyone! I want to thank you all for reading, favoriting, and reviewing. You're awesome! My new goal is to update weekly.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin.

This one was a request—my first request! :D—from user lightlights. I'm very open to requests! Thank you for yours, lightlights, and keep them coming everyone! Let me know how I'm doing! Should there be more bromance, or am I overdoing it? Do you have a specific ailment that you would like to see, or a specific situation, or a specific reaction? Should Gwaine or Lancelot get in on the action? Please tell me! :D

And now, on to the story.

Battle Wound

The hunting trip is cut short. Bandits are upon them in a flash, attacking them with swords and heavy clubs before any of the knights or the servant have time to react.

Merlin, Arthur, Gwaine, and Lancelot are fighting off armed thieves left and right before they even have time to register what had happened. A sword cuts deeply into Merlin's stomach and he doubles over. Arthur is bruised badly in the arm with a club. The other knights are luckier, escaping with only minor cuts and bruises.

After successfully fighting off the bandits, Lancelot begins to tend to Arthur's wound, while Gwaine hurries over to Merlin, still writhing in pain and squatting on the ground. Gwaine begins to bandage the wound and, after finishing with the Prince, Lancelot runs off to fetch more clean water for them to drink.

Arthur, preoccupied with his own wound, does not take note of Merlin, but the servant knows fully well that his master is injured. As soon as he is able to stand without feeling as if he could faint, Merlin finds his way to where Arthur is sitting by the fire that Gwaine had made and sits next to him.

"You were injured. How badly?" he asks.

"I'm fine. Nothing is broken, at least," the Prince replies. Looking up at Merlin, he takes notice of the blood on his shirt for the first time. "Merlin, you're covered in blood! Are you alright?"

"Yes, it's just a cut. Gwaine bandaged it up for me, so it's alright now," he smiles. Gwaine perks up at the mention of his name before going back to stirring a pot of something boiling above the fire. When Lancelot returns with the water, he brings it straight to Merlin.

"Drink, friend. You lost quite a bit of blood," he says, handing him the pouch before walking over to where Gwaine is seated waiting for the food to cook.

Merlin hands the pouch to Arthur, who takes a drink and then hands it back to Merlin, who takes a few long, satisfying gulps.

"How much blood did you lose?" the Prince asks, trying not to seem concerned.

"Not that much. Lancelot is just overly concerned," he lies. He knows that he was injured quite badly, but says nothing. Arthur had been injured too, after all, and making him worry is not something Merlin wants to do. Arthur nods, looking over Merlin again. He is sweating and pale, breathing rapidly. However, considering they have just been fighting bandits, this is not abnormal. He disregards it.

Merlin, feeling dizzy and nauseous, turns onto his side to sleep, and is unconscious in minutes. However, his nap is short lived, because not long after he falls asleep the food is ready to eat.

"Hey Princess, wake up Merlin so he can eat," Gwaine calls to Arthur in what sounds suspiciously like an order.

"He's only just fallen asleep, maybe we should let him rest and eat when he wakes up later," Arthur suggests.

"I think he should eat now, he was wounded during the battle. We'll let him rest later."

The Prince does as the older man said, taking the small amount of leftover water in the pouch beside him and splashing it onto the servant's face.

Merlin sits up quickly, startled, and instantly regrets it. The wound burns and stings intensely, and he grips his midriff, hissing in pain. Arthur instantly puts his uninjured arm under the younger man's back, easing him into a semi-recumbent position.

He raises his eyebrows expectantly at his servant, but the gesture goes unseen, as his eyes are shut in an attempt to fight the overwhelming sense of vertigo that had struck him.

When he opens his eyes again, he finds that all the knights are staring at him. The warlock waves off the concerned gazes and smiles. Arthur looks as if he's going to ask a question, but Merlin interrupts.

"The way I moved aggravated my cut, that's all. Don't worry, Sire," he insists, half mocking and half reassuring. Receiving a nod in reply, the knights and the servant eat their dinners.

After the meal, Merlin falls asleep once again, Lancelot sitting next to him, checking on him frequently. Arthur, concern growing for the young man, confronts Gwaine.

"Should we be worried? Do you think that it would be best to get him back to Camelot to see Gaius?" the Prince asked, throwing a glance towards Merlin for clarification.

"He'll be okay. The sword cut him pretty good, but I patched him back up. As long as he takes it easy and doesn't reopen the wound, he should be fine," Gwaine answers, a hint of self-admiration in his voice.

Accepting this answer, Arthur nods and bids goodnight to Gwaine before falling asleep, followed shortly thereafter by the rest of the knights.

Everyone rises with the sun the next morning except Merlin. After deciding to let him sleep a bit longer, the men pack up the campsite and load everything back onto the horses before waking the young man.

Merlin feels sore and tired, and his wound throbs painfully and feels warm to the touch. He says nothing and gets onto his horse, knowing that they have well over a few hours of riding ahead of them.

The time passes slowly and Merlin feels worse with each hour. By late afternoon, he's swaying on his horse dizzy and slightly disoriented. But mostly thirsty. He's so thirsty. Shivering with cold despite sweating, he asks for a drink of water.

Arthur, who was previously at the front of the group, upon seeing Merlin's obvious illness, gets off his horse and orders everyone else to do the same. Lancelot helps the servant off his horse while Gwaine goes to fetch more water. Lancelot's cool hand rests upon the servant's forehead as Arthur walks over to them questioningly.

"You're very warm. What do you suggest we do, Sire?" Lancelot said, turning from Merlin to Arthur as he addresses them.

"We'll rest here. Gwaine should be back soon with water; we'll try to cool his fever down. Un-bandage his wound for now so we can see whether it's becoming infected," he orders. Lancelot complies and removes the young man's shirt and bandage, finding it, not surprisingly, very red and showing definite signs of infection. It had reopened wither while riding the horse or getting down from it, and is once again bleeding.

Arthur's eyes widen in shock and outrage when he sees the deep, wide gash. It stretches nearly all the way across his midriff.

"_Mer_lin! You told me that your cut was nothing to worry about!" he tries to keep his voice calm, but he can't mask the anger in his tone.

"It's not," the warlock replies. Gwaine arrives back with the water, and Arthur tears a strip of fabric from his shirt to make a cool compress for Merlin's forehead.

"You think that's 'nothing to worry about'? You could have damaged organs, idiot," he says in a much gentler tone.

"It's not that deep."

"You're truly a moron. Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

"I had other things to worry about."

"Things that were more important than you being sliced to bits? What was more bloody important than that?" the Prince asks angrily. He's not shouting, but he's fully ready to be.

"You were wounded too, Arthur," he responds quietly. Arthur is silent for a moment.

"So, because I was bruised slightly, you think that is a reason for you to allow yourself to bleed out without even mentioning it to me?"

"Gwaine staunched the bleeding, so there was no possibility of that," Merlin replies. He begins to feel sleepy, and lets his eyes slide shut. Arthur lays a hand on his servant's cheek.

"You've got a fever," he says simply, and Merlin nods. "Does it hurt?"

The warlock's eyes open again, only slightly irritated at the older man for not allowing him to rest.

"Does what hurt? The wound? Yeah, a little," he admits, and an awkward pause follows. His eyes once again drift closed, and this time Arthur does not interrupt. He sits by him, tending to his fever while he sleeps.

"We should probably get him to Gaius. He needs to be treated by a physician," comes Lancelot's voice, warm but serious. Arthur hadn't known that he had been standing close by during their conversation, and flushes slightly at the thought.

"You're right. We'll ride back as soon as he wakes up."

"Maybe we should wake him now, Princess. The infection is only going to get worse, so we should get him back as quickly as possible," says Gwaine. Arthur nods and shakes his servant lightly, calling his name. Merlin stirs and wakes.

Lancelot walks over as Arthur begins to pack away everything they had taken out back onto the horses with Gwaine's assistance. He rests a hand on the boy's cheek.

"His fever is quite high now, Sire. I think it might be dangerous for him to ride a horse. If he passes out and falls off, he could injure himself even more," Lancelot says. Everyone's attention turns to Merlin, who is swaying slightly where he stands and seeming to struggle to stay awake even now. Arthur moves to support him.

"He can ride double with me, that way he won't be able to fall," the Prince suggests, and Lancelot nods.

They get on their horses and set off towards the castle, reaching it by nightfall. Arthur sits behind Merlin, who drifts in and out of consciousness the whole time. The Prince can feel heat radiating off the young man's feverish body as he presses more and more of his weight against Arthur.

By the time they arrive at the castle gates, Merlin's full weight has been against Arthur for quite a long time, and his arms ache. He takes little notice, however, and the men move quickly to Gauis's chambers and lay him in the bed.

After applying some salve and a cold compress and forcing some vile tasting tonic down his ward's throat, Gaius promises that Merlin will make a full recovery and suggests that the knights go home and sleep. Merlin regains consciousness just as they are leaving, but none of them take note until he calls out.

"Arthur."

The Prince stands at the bedside of his semi-lucid, feverish, injured manservant and looks down expectantly.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Forgive me?"

Arthur smiles and rolls his eyes.

"Of course I forgive you, idiot. Just don't do it again. Get some rest, _Mer_lin," he says, ruffling the warlock's hair affectionately, but still a bit roughly.

"Ow, prat! You do the same. And thank you for bringing me here."

"Well, I couldn't very well have left you in the forest to die. Lancelot and Gwaine would have had my head!"

Merlin laughed, and Arthur did the same.

"But really, do rest up. I mean that. You've got chores to do," he adds jokingly.

"Arthur!" he whines, and Arthur shoots him a look that shuts him up as he stands to leave.

"Good night, _Mer_lin," he calls from the doorway.

"Good night, _Sire_." His tone is dripping with sarcasm. Arthur leaves smiling to himself. Merlin falls asleep doing the same.


	5. Drowning His SorrowsDrunk

My lovely readers! I'm going to try to publish early as a special treat ;D thanks to everyone who is reviewing, favoriting, alerting, and reading! My appreciation is so deep that the fish at the bottom have never seen sunlight! Please keep the reviews coming!

I have an extensive list of ideas right now—so you can all be ensured another 21 chapters before I run out! But don't let that stop you from telling me what you want to see!

This request comes from DammitimmaD. "Merlin drowning his sorrows with mead would be a good one ;) Drunk Merlin. That could be very interesting!"

So, without further ado, here's the story! Just a warning, though—it's a little darker. Okay, probably a lot darker. But I'd love it if you read it anyway!

No, I did not obtain any of the rights to Merlin between now and the last time I updated. :P

Drunk Merlin Drowning His Sorrows

Merlin stares down at the letter in his hands in disbelief. Gaius feels his heart shatter for the boy, feeling overwhelmingly guilty as he knows that the news he's just bestowed upon his ward is more than anyone should have to bear. Merlin's burden is already heavier than the vast majority of people's.

The old physician is constantly impressed, although he would never admit it because the pride would go straight to the silly boy's head, by Merlin's ability to cope with most any situation. Even with everything he's been through, he's only known the warlock to cry a handful of times, and even then, he has been able to grin and bear it. Grin and bear everything.

That's why Gaius feels tears stinging his eyes to see the young man he'd come to love as a son sitting on the floor were his legs had given out several minutes ago, staring blankly at the paper in front of him, reading it over and over and over and over, perhaps not even registering the meaning of the words anymore, or even worse, not registering the words at all but only their morbid, horrible, tragic meaning.

_Dearest Merlin,_

_ It is with great sorrow that I must inform you that Hunith passed away late last night. She took ill about a week ago, and finally succumbed to her fever. Our healers tried to cure her to the best of their abilities, but the only thing they could do was ensure that she was not in pain for the final days of her life. I'm terribly sorry, but she wanted you to know in her last moments of consciousness that she loved you very much, and that you were—are—a wonderful son and she was proud to be your mother. Please take care of yourself, and feel free to come back home if you need anything._

_Your Friend,_

_Elaine_

Gaius walks over to Merlin, still sitting on the floor and staring blankly at the letter, and takes the paper gently from his hands.

"That's enough of that, my boy," he says, and Merlin's hand drops limply to his lap. Tears finally begin to fall, and he stands up to excuse himself into his room.

"Stay sitting, Merlin, you've had quite a shock," Gaius coaxes while pushing down on the boy's shoulders to keep him seated. He brings a blanket and wraps it around the shoulders of his ward and leaves the room to allow him to mourn in privacy.

Merlin doesn't move from that spot all night. He sleeps fitfully and uncomfortably for a few hours, and is completely exhausted emotionally and physically when the sun rises. When he finally decides to move, it is only out of desperation.

He feels like he's breaking down the middle. This isn't anything like the sadness he felt when he saw knights die—even knights that were dear friends to him. That pain didn't compare. This is a heart wrenching ache that he can feel all the way to his stomach, grief so deep that he feels nauseous and dizzy and weak. He had no idea that anything could hurt this badly until now. His mother is dead. The woman who raised him, one of the only people who had known about his magic, his _mother_. He'd loved her. He still loves her.

It doesn't make sense, and he is overwhelmed completely by it as his racing mind tries to find out answers to why this happened to him, his mother of all people. One of the best people he had ever known, and he would never see her walk the earth again.

The worst part is, he thinks, that he never even got to say goodbye to her. She used her dying breath to let him know how much she loved him, and meanwhile he had been in Camelot, far away from her, not even knowing that she was ailing. Any half decent son would have been there for her, would have checked on her often enough to know that she was ill and dying. And yet she used her last breath to make sure he knew, wherever he was that he had deemed more important than his poor, sick mother, that she was proud that he was her son.

It is enough to make him physically ill, and he moves for the first time in hours to empty the contents of his stomach into a chamber pot near him. The noise awakens Gaius, who immediately rushes to the warlock's side and rubs soothing circles on his back as he vomits. He finishes, breathing heavily and sweating, wiping his mouth before standing.

"Merlin, come. Let's get you into a bed, you must sleep. I know this is difficult for you, but you can't make yourself so sick with grief," Gaius urges, gently pulling Merlin towards his chambers. The warlock backs away from the physician's touch, retreating towards the exit of their house.

"I'm going to the tavern," he says simply before closing the door behind him.

"Merlin, stop! That's not—Merlin!" the old man calls, but he gets no response. Gaius walks to the table in the center of the room and sits heavily in a chair, trying to think of ways to comfort his ward.

Arthur storms through the door early in the evening, finding Gaius mixing some sort of tonic and no manservant to be found. He's livid.

"Gaius! Where is Merlin?' the Prince bellows, half hoping that Merlin would appear upon hearing his name called. He does not.

"He's quite unwell, Sire. I'm sorry; I should have informed you that he would not be reporting to you today."

"He's ill, is he? With what?" Arthur's tone has softened ever so slightly, although he still sounds his best to sound completely irritated.

"Well, it's not an 'illness' per say…" Gaius trails off, knowing that this will infuriate the Prince.

"So he's just having a lie-in? Unacceptable! Where is he, in his room? _Mer_lin, get your-"

"He's not here right now, Sire."

"Oh, really? Then where is he?"

A hesitation.

"…At the tavern, Sire."

"The _tavern!_ When he's supposed to be _working!_ When I find him, I'll have him in the stocks for so long that-"

"Please listen. I know it seems bad, and I would be perfectly understanding if you went and brought him back, but please don't be too hard on him. He's having a very rough time of things," Gaius pleads with Arthur, hoping vehemently that the part of him that's Merlin's friend will outweigh the part that is the Prince of Camelot. He's right, of course.

"And why should I not? What could possibly be wrong that would justify him going to the _tavern_ instead or reporting for work?" he's still angry, but still willing to listen to reason. Gaius smiles internally, knowing that these are the qualities that will one day make Arthur the greatest King Camelot has ever known.

"It's not my place to tell you, I'm not sure whether he wants you to know. Just please, be patient with him."

"I've been patient with him all day, Gaius, and it's wearing thin. I'm going to go find him, and when I do, I'll drag him back here by those ridiculous ears of his!"

And with that, the Prince becomes the second person to storm out of Gaius's chambers in a fit of emotion that day.

By the time Arthur actually makes it to the tavern, he's worked himself into a murderous rage.

Merlin has no excuse to be at the tavern, of all places, the tavern, while he should be working.

Merlin is above sitting in a dirty pub and drinking with a bunch of alcoholics he does not know.

Merlin should not be in a bar, likely with Gwaine, who Arthur never really liked that much anyway, rather than making himself useful for the Prince, or at least for Gaius.

Merlin had quite obviously upset Gaius, and that was not acceptable.

Merlin hadn't even asked permission. Arthur would have said no, of course, and likely thrown something at his head for even suggesting the idea, but still. He should have asked before taking a personal day to leisurely have a good time.

He takes into account, briefly, what Gaius had said about the boy having a rough time of things, and considers going easy on him. The thought quickly dissipates as he thinks harder and makes himself angrier.

Finally, he opens the door to the tavern, fully ready to have Merlin thrown to some man eating beast, searching the pub with red vision as he scans for his slacking, useless manservant.

He spots him.

His anger cools.

The image he sees before his eyes is not what he had expected at all. Instead of drinking and having a good time, Merlin is sitting next to Gwaine with his head down on the table, the older man patting his back comfortingly. As he walks closer, he can see his servant's shoulders shaking.

_He's crying._

Arthur immediately feels awkward, and turns to leave before Merlin can see him, but Gwaine jumps up and stops him, leaving Merlin, who does not move or look up, at the table.

"Princess! I never thought I'd be so glad to see you," Gwaine says thankfully, patting Arthur on the shoulder. The Prince shifts under the contact.

"What's wrong with Merlin?" he asks, trying to seem more irritated than concerned.

"I don't know, that's what you're going to figure out."

"Excuse me?"

"He came into the tavern this morning and wouldn't talk to anyone. He wouldn't even look at me. Just kept ordering mead. He was drinking tankard after tankard—would have drowned himself had I not stopped him. Then he broke down. He won't say anything at all. He won't even look up. He's been sitting like that for almost two hours now, and I don't know what to do. Fix him," Gwaine orders, pushing Arthur towards the table.

"Me? What makes you think I can to do anything about it?" he asks, beginning to feel nervous. Gwaine simply raises his eyebrows and pulls him to the still crying warlock.

"Hey, Merlin? Look, the Princess came looking for you! Well, you two talk it out. I'll be… over there," the older man says, seating himself close enough to hear the conversation but far enough away to not be part of it, earning a glare from Arthur.

"Hey there, _Mer_lin. You know, I came looking for you only with the intentions of punishing you."

No response.

"I was fully ready to have you beheaded for this stunt," he adds, an awkward attempt at their normal banter.

"Do it," Merlin's voice is small and pained, and Arthur is torn between being happy the servant had said anything at all and appalled at the words he is hearing. He chooses appalled.

"What? Merlin, I'm not going to kill you for this. I was joking, but obviously you're in no shape for that. What's eating at you?"

"I'm serious. Do it, I'd welcome it."

"Alright, this is going too far. Don't talk like that. Tell me what's bothering you," the Prince pleads.

Merlin reaches into his pocket and takes out a letter before shoving it across the table to Arthur. Gwaine cranes his neck ridiculously from the next table over and nearly tips his chair over in an effort to see what Merlin handed the Prince.

There is a moment of silence as Arthur reads the letter, another one as the information sets in, and another as he tries to think of something to say.

"I'm sorry," is all he can manage, a feeble attempt at comfort. It doesn't console Merlin in the slightest.

"Not _your_ fault," Merlin replies, and the way he stresses the syllables informs Arthur that there is a double meaning in his words.

"I know that, but… Wait; don't tell me you're blaming yourself for this?"

"I should have been there, Arthur. My mother was dying and I made no attempt to go see her," he begins crying again.

"Did you even get word that she was ill before…this?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then there's no way you could have possibly have known!"

"I should have visited her more often. Had I gone down to check on her every once in a while, I would have known before she…"

"Merlin, you can't be looking for ways to make this your fault. Look at me," he commands. When the young man makes no effort to pick up his head, Arthur forces his forehead back with the palm of his hand and holds his chin in a way reminiscent of scolding a child.

"This isn't your fault. Obviously Hunith didn't blame you. She loved you," Arthur says, trying to help but only succeeding in making Merlin cry more. He takes to patting the young man's shoulder, sometimes grabbing it and squeezing endearingly, until Merlin shoots up unexpectedly and runs out the doors of the pub.

"Merlin?" Arthur questions, standing to follow.

He finds his manservant doubled over, emptying the contents of his stomach into some bushes on the side of the tavern. Arthur's heart twists a little more, but he stands still, not wanting to embarrass the man more.

Gwaine comes jogging from behind him, quick to begin rubbing the servant's back in small circles, muttering something about breathing as the young man chokes trying to expel the contents of his stomach, which is little more than mead, and get air into his lungs at the same time. Gwaine glares at Arthur, presumably for his lack of helpfulness in the soothing of his best friend.

The Prince goes into the tavern and comes out with a goblet of water and a roll of bread with cheese. He hands them to the servant, who rinses his mouth out with the water, but rejects the food.

"Oh, come now. I know you, so I'm guessing you haven't eaten all day. You'll get very sick, drinking so much on an empty stomach," Arthur says in a no-nonsense tone. Gwaine nods for good measure, and Merlin takes a few bites of the bread before being sick again in the bushes.

"I should take him to see Gaius, he's probably given himself bloody alcohol poisoning," Arthur says, and Gwaine nods. Hugging Merlin once and helping him onto Arthur's horse, which the Prince himself had insisted he ride, he bids them goodbye and they ride off.

They sit quietly for a while, Arthur making the horse walk slowly to keep at bay any further aggravations to the boy's stomach.

Eventually, Merlin's drunkenness gets the better of him, and he slips into a tipsy state of hit-and-miss-coherency.

"You know what, Arthur?" he slurs. Arthur sighs.

"What?" he asks with a roll of his eyes.

"You know what, you're not really a prat."

Silence.

"I mean it! You're a good guy! You're my best friend, you know. That's why I wouldn't tell Gwaine. No one but you. Only Arthur…"

Arthur is shocked. Flattered and pleased, but embarrassed at the same time. However, he chalks the sudden outburst up to the mead.

"Merlin, you're drunk."

"I mean it! S'why I wouldn't tell Gwaine! My mother died, but I didn't wanna tell Gwaine. Didn't wanna tell him. Nope."

"And why is that?"

Merlin doesn't reply. Instead, he slumps forward, unmoving and silent. Arthur curses under his breath and gallops the horse the rest of the way to Gaius.

He slides his unconscious servant off the horse, by some miracle managing to not break his neck in the process, and carries him in to Gaius.

With Merlin asleep in his bed and Gaius mixing a potion to make sure that the alcohol in his system doesn't kill him, Arthur sits down in a chair and breathes a sigh of disbelief.

Hunith is dead.

What is he supposed to do now? Give Merlin time off? Of course, he can have as much time off as he needs. But what if that's not what would be best for him? Would doing chores, busying his hands and mind and allowing things to return to normal help him to recover faster?

Arthur mulls these ideas over in his mind as his manservant sleeps in the bed near him, tossing and turning as if having a nightmare. The whole mess is a nightmare. Poor Merlin. Arthur had lost his mother, too, but nothing that compared to this. Sure, it hurts more than he cares to admit, but he never knew her. Merlin and his mother had been so close. They took care of each other. They _loved_ each other. And now…

Merlin sits up suddenly, whole body covered in a cold sweat. He looks at Arthur, his expression a mixture of guilt and pain. Desperate for a way to console the man before he starts crying again, which Arthur is not sure he can handle, he walks over to the bed and sits beside him. Merlin's eyes fill with tears once more, but Arthur shushes him gently.

Instead of crying, the servant leans against the Prince, which surprises him for a second and makes him feel slightly uncomfortable and maybe even a little of something else, happy, maybe, or warm. Whichever it is, he smiles sadly and allows it, just this one time. Merlin falls asleep once more, and the Prince decides that he will leave the rest to fate. It seems to have done a pretty good job so far.

End

Oh, I hope it wasn't too out of character at the end there. Please review, and thanks for reading!


	6. Hypothermia

Hello to my lovely readers! You all have been wonderful, reading, suggesting ideas for me to use, and being patient! Sorry this chapter took forever to get out. I've been sick. Ironic, no? Maybe it's karma… Anyway. Thank you all so much, and please keep reviewing!

This idea was suggested by so many people. I know I said I was going to credit those of you who wrote suggestions, but I don't even know who I would credit with this because it's been suggested five or six times. So instead, you know who you are, people who suggested hypothermia. Thanks! :D

I still don't own Merlin.

Also, I'm playing around with narration, so bear with me. This one will be first person (Arthur POV) and present tense. Let me know what sounds best?

Hypothermia

Sleet. Of all the weather conditions that exist, sleet is the most irritating. It soaks you through like rain does, but feels as cold on the skin as snow does. It sticks to the ground in soggy, sopping, slippery piles of itself, coating everything in an unpleasant mush.

It's sleeting tonight. I hate it when it sleets.

I'm sitting in my room, warm and dry after a day of being outside, staring out the window, watching the town. Of course, no one is out there for the cold. Well, I shouldn't say no one. Merlin should be out there. I sent him out over an hour ago to muck out the stables.

Really, he should be done by now. If he'd done it in a timely manner like any other servant would have, then he would have hardly been in the sleet for any time at all. But as it is…

Now that I think about it, he's been gone for a long time. A _really_ long time. Maybe I should go after that incompetent idiot?

Just as I'm contemplating getting up to look for him, speak of the devil, in walks Merlin.

He's shivering and sopping wet.

"Merlin, you're soaked through!"

He glares at me and nods. A sarcastic smirk, dripping with animosity, is thrown my way.

"Thats'what happens'when you send servants ta muck out yur stables in the snow, Artha."

His words are jumbled and slurred.

"If you'd done it a little faster, then you wouldn't be so cold."

"If I could feel ma fingers, I _would've_ dunnit faster. S'not like… I was out there enjoying the weather!"

"You can't feel your fingers?"

He shakes his head. Looking him over, he does look terrible. Merlin is shivering badly, his lips and the very tops of his ears are tinted blue, and his cheeks are bright red. I stand up and touch his forehead, then his cheeks, and both are very cold.

"Merlin, I need you to… stir the fire," I command. That's the closest I can put him to the fire without actually letting him _touch_ it.

He nods and walks over to the fireplace pokers, picking up the one with the pointy hook at the end. After trying and failing three times to get the handle into his hands, he finally gets it, but not for long. It clatters to the floor soon after, startling him visibly. His shivering is constant.

"Alright, Merlin, enough is enough. You need dry clothes. Sit down and I'll get you some," I order. I'm hesitant to lend him my own, but I don't want to send him home while it's still sleeting; he might freeze to death out there.

Merlin sits on the floor where he was standing and I roll my eyes. He's so… literal.

Pulling out a pair of pants and a shirt, both of which will probably be much too big for the scrawny git, I walk back over and hand the clothing to my manservant, who is currently trying to sleep in a soaking, shivering, freezing pile on the floor of my chambers.

"Up, now. You can't very well sleep in that state, can you? Change into these," I thrust the clothes at him, "and then we'll warm you up."

"M'okay here, jus' wanna sleep."

"Merlin, come on. You're freezing, you need to warm up."

"M'just tired, donwanna move."

"If that's how you're going to be, fine. I don't need to try to reason with you, I'm your King. Put these on and that's an order."

Merlin exhales a huffy sigh, but stands up and tries to take the clothes from my hand. Instead, he reaches out uncoordinatedly and misses. I walk him over to the screen that I change behind every morning (A/N: I'm having lethologica and can't think of what it's called, or if it even has a name.) and put the clothes in his arms.

Moments later, he comes out dressed, but with the shirt on backwards and inside-out. Close enough.

However, even dry, he's still shivering. I guide him to the fire and let him sit by it, wrapping him in a blanket from my bed. I'm starting to worry—he still looks pretty bad.

"Merlin, has Gaius ever told you anything about caring for someone in this situation? A freezing person?"

"Yeh, you put blankets on 'em and you share body heat."

Body heat. Why not.

I weigh out the options in my head, and decide that keeping Merlin alive is more important, if only slightly, than my desire to not touch him, and I sit next to him.

Lifting the blankets, I allow myself to slip under and feel our sides press together in the single most awkward moment I've ever experienced.

And to make it worse, I'm the only one suffering it. Merlin's not even lucid enough to register what is happening, so while I'm sacrificing part of my manly pride, he's blissfully unaware. Maybe that is a good thing, I suppose. Maybe I'm not so sure I would want him to be fully aware of this. The comments he would make would be insufferable.

We sit like this for several minutes, and I can feel the cold radiating from his skin.

Slowly, he begins to warm up.

"Arthur?" he asks after a long time.

"Merlin. How are you feeling?"

"Mmh… Like hell. Bloody freezing. I was wondering… why are you so… close to me? Not that I mind, but—I didn't mean for that to sound the way it did, so don't take it the wrong way."

I chuckle a little. Stupid Merlin.

"You looked at death's door when you came in here from outside, shivering and blue and wet. And you said that this is what you do for people that are in that situation. A simple exchange of body heat is all. Nothing more."

"Ah, alright then. Thank you, Arthur." He clears his throat awkwardly. "Well, if you aren't in need of my services any longer, I should be going."

He stands to leave, but I grab him by the wrist. Jerking around suddenly, his eyes meet mine.

"It's still sleeting."

"I don't mind."

"Liar. Everyone hates sleet."

"Everyone, huh?"

"Yes, everyone. You might stay the night here, I suppose. It would be the only logical solution."

"I suppose it would. I sleep on the left."

"You what?"

Instead of answering, he jumps up and leaps into my bed, snuggling under the covers on the left side.

"I didn't mean my _bed_, _Mer_lin!" But it's too late. He's already practically asleep, so I let it slide. I'll double his chores tomorrow and we'll call it even.

I climb into the right side of the bed and turn towards my manservant, whose back is towards me. I pat it twice, briskly.

"Goodnight, Merlin."

The End

I hope it wasn't too rushed or too OOC! :D Thanks for reading!


	7. Plague

Hello everyone! I know I'm really bad about keeping any sort of regular schedule with my updates. I'm really busy with the school musical, homework, and life in general. But I will try to be better about updating! And thanks so much for your kind reviews—please keep them coming! They motivate me! :D

Another thing—I promised that I would credit the people who reviewed and left me ideas. But I keep getting so many repeats of ideas that it would be really hard to credit people. So, instead, if you would like me to credit you, then please don't hesitate to ask. I'll do it in a heartbeat. But otherwise, I'm just going to type the stories, alright? Sorry for being such a disappointment.

Well, here's the next chapter, hope it's good! I got mixed reviews about the point of view last time, so I'll keep playing around with it. This time I'm focusing on adding more fluffy, feel-good dialogue between the boys.

I still do not own Merlin.

Plague

It came on so suddenly. One day, everyone goes about their business as normal. The next, a few people come in to see Gaius with complaints of flu-like symptoms and strange rashes. Everything went downhill after that.

The symptoms get worse with each passing day, they've figured out. First, it's flu-like symptoms and a strange, burgundy rash across the arms and chest. Next, the person becomes so weak that their legs fail to support them. The fever steadily increases, and generalized pain all over the body intensifies. A cough develops, and the victim experiences chest pain. The next and final stage is crucial. When people reach the stage where they begin vomiting blood, it's over. No hope for treatment. They die.

Another thing that they've learned is that this particular disease does not appear to be spread from person to person, but rather through the blood stream. Fleas, mosquitoes, and bedbugs are carrying the infected blood throughout Camelot.

Every single bed in Gaius's chambers is filled with sick people. They've even taken to making makeshift beds on the floor from sheets and pillows. Gaius and Merlin have been so busy working to cure every person that comes through the doors that we hardly have a chance to rest.

Prince Arthur instructed me not to come in to work until the plague has passed. He is allowing Merlin to devote all his waking hours (which is, lately, every hour of the day) to curing the sick. Gaius is proud of Arthur for this-he's a good man.

Merlin is becoming completely exhausted. Currently, there is a lull in the physician's chambers. Most of the people are either sleeping or too ill to be tended to, and Gaius pulls him away from nursing a young woman's fever with a cool cloth and corners him next to a table.

"Merlin. You haven't slept properly in weeks. You look exhausted, please get some sleep. I can handle things for a few hours while you rest," he says, concern evident in his voice. Merlin scratches absentmindedly at an itchy red bump on his arm.

"I'm fine, Gaius, really. These people need to be cared for, and you can't do it all on your own, so please just let me-"

"Merlin! Come now. You're going to make yourself ill if you don't rest properly, and then you won't be able to help me at all."

Merlin reluctantly agrees, knowing his guardian is right. A headache pounds behind his eyes, presumably from the exhaustion, every muscle in my body sore from overwork. He walks into his room and falls immediately into a deep and much needed sleep.

It's late afternoon by the time he wakes up, feeling no more refreshed than when he went to sleep. Still tired, achy, cold, and suffering with a terrible headache, he leaves his chambers and begins checking on patients. Not much has changed from last night.

"Merlin, go out and fetch water, will you? We're nearly out," Gaius calls. He takes the bucket and heads for the door, nearly hitting Prince Arthur square in the face as he opens it.

"Arthur! Don't tell me you've fallen ill?"

"No, no. I'm fine. I have some time off, is all, and wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help out. You look busy."

Gaius interrupts. "Sorry, Sire. Your offer is kind, but I don't want to put you at risk of falling ill."

"I thought you said the disease was not contagious?" Arthur asks.

"Yes, not from person to person. But it can be spread through any blood-sucking insect, and there are likely a lot of them around here. If you really want to assist, you can take two buckets and go with Merlin to fill them with water. That would be very helpful," he says, and Arthur nods and picks up two empty buckets.

Both servant and master exit the room, buckets in hand, together.

Merlin shivers as soon as they're outside and pulls his brown jacket tighter around himself. "Unusually cold out for this time of year, isn't it?" He says, trying to start conversation. After being holed up with no one to talk to but Gaius for a few weeks, he's desperate for some sort of discussion.

"No, actually. It's warmer than it has been in quite a long time," Arthur responds hesitantly, giving him a scrutinizing look. "You look awful. Not falling ill, are you?"

"I'm just exhausted. Not much time to rest, as I'm sure you can imagine."

He nods. The chill in the air grows colder and the warlock shivers again, and as the headache throbs more and more painfully and it gets more difficult to walk for exhaustion and muscle pain, he starts to wonder if there may be some truth in Arthur's suspicions.

Merlin makes it almost halfway to the water pump when his legs give out. Arthur, at first thinking that he had tripped over his own feet, finds this terribly amusing, and laughs at his servant's distress. Merlin, on the other hand, finds the situation considerably less comical.

After trying and failing three times to stand up again, he realizes that this is probably more than exhaustion. The Prince notices his difficulties and offers a hand for the warlock to take, and Merlin tries once more to lever himself to his feet, but ultimately can't get his quivering legs to cooperate.

"Hey, are you alright?" Arthur asks concernedly.

Pulling up his sleeve, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst, Merlin sees what he had been dreading but expecting for weeks now:

A burgundy rash covers his arm.

Arthur looks down at his manservant and immediately is filled with dread.

"You, too," is all he can manage.

"Seems to be the case."

"Let's get you to Gaius."

Arthur picks Merlin up and slings him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, ignoring the cries of pain that the jarring movement brings. The Prince knows that they have to act fast. If Merlin doesn't start taking medication soon, he'll be vomiting blood two days from now.

The journey back to Gaius's chambers is considerably less pleasant than the trip out. Every movement is agony for Merlin, though he tries not to show it. He is hot with a steadily climbing fever, and when he is laid down in his bed, he begins coughing, albeit lightly. A seemingly unthreatening reminder of the looming danger of illness. Things were going to get worse before they got better.

About three hours later, Merlin is extremely feverish, the coughing has become painful, and he can hardly move a muscle. The fever is manifesting itself as anxiety for the poor warlock, and he's terrified. Nightmares when sleeping, blind terror when awake.

Currently, his fears are rational. To an extent. He is lying on his bed, covers tightly around him, still shivering, panicking, and voicing this panic to Giaus.

"I can't just lay here, Gaius, there are sick people, and you can't take care of them all by yourself!"

"Merlin, you're ill. You'll make yourself worse by not resting."

"How can I rest when people need my help?"

"You need to stop worrying so much. The stress is only going to make you sicker. Think about other things for a while, and concentrate on getting well."

"I can't! People are dying right in front of me! And not only that, but I'm taking up your attention from the people who need it! How can I think about anything other than that?"

"You have a point."

"So you'll let me help?"

"For heaven's sakes, Merlin, you can't even stand! I'm not letting you help. But being here in the physician's chambers is obliviously making you feel guilty, which is not aiding your healing. And I need to concentrate on helping the others. I think it would be best if you went to stay with Guinevere for a while."

Before Merlin could protest, Gaius is out the door and looking for the young maidservant, whom he quickly finds, and doesn't need any convincing at all to allow her good friend to stay in her house with her.

Two hours later, an unhappy Merlin is sitting in a bed—Gwen's bed—feverish and miffed, but undeniably calmer than before.

Gwen really doesn't mind having Merlin over at her house. She actually quite likes it. The two are good friends, and he always looks out for her, so she's happy to be able to return the favor. Her motherly instincts and naturally caring personality make her the perfect nurse.

Merlin is almost asleep when the servant girl comes into the room with a bowl of stew for him to eat. He protests, saying that he's really not hungry and would much rather sleep than eat, but she is stern and persistent.

"Come, you've got to eat _something._ Gaius tells me that it's been quite a while since he's seen you take a break to eat."

He gives in and, after a few reluctant bites, realizes how hungry he really had been. As he eats, Arthur walks through the door.

"Hello, _Mer_lin. How are you feeling?" he asks.

"A little better, I suppose. How are you holding up?" the servant replies, finishing his sentence with a painful cough that even made Arthur wince the slightest bit.

"Better than you, from the sounds of it. I've heard that it's really painful. Is it?"

"Well… it's not pleasant, I'll admit that."

The Prince nods. Merlin's stomach chooses that moment to reject the stew he had been eating and he reaches quickly over to a bucket Gwen had provided for him, just in case.

After he's done getting sick, Gwen rushes into the room with water for him to drink.

"Oh, no. Please don't tell me…" she trails off, fear and dread causing tears to well up in her eyes.

"No, I actually don't think that it's... the last stage. That's taken at least three days after the coughing starts in all the other patients. I think I just went too long without eating. My system is rejecting it. I'll be fine, just have to eat small amounts more frequently for a while. Sorry for scaring you," he explains sheepishly, and her hand flies to her heart in relief.

"Oh, thank goodness. Alright, can I get you anything? Are you comfortable?"

"That's alright, Gwen, you've done more than enough. Thank you," Merlin replies with a smile, which she returns before leaving.

"She's something, isn't she?" Arthur says dreamily after watching her walk out.

"Yeah, she's been really great. I really appreciate her kindness," Merlin says before breaking into another fit of coughing, causing a flair of pain in his chest which he winces against. Arthur pats his back bracingly, which would have been a little rough for even a healthy Merlin, but the frail and sickly one sitting before him chokes on air, trying to breathe and tell Arthur to stop both at the same time.

"Please don't do that. It makes it worse," Merlin finally says after he's able to catch his breath. Arthur nods.

Finally, after another half an hour, the young warlock falls asleep. Arthur goes into the kitchen and talks to Gwen (or flirts shamelessly, whichever).

Fifteen minutes after Merlin falls asleep, a feverish nightmare wakes him up. He's sweating and shaking and panicked, and wakes up shouting. Shouting Arthur's name.

Both he and Guinevere rush into the room where the young man is in obvious distress and still shouting for the Prince. Said Prince reaches Merlin's bed first, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Stop panicking, everything is alright. It's just a nightmare, none of it was real. Calm down now, before you maim yourself," he soothes in a loud, authoritative voice. (A/N: When I tried to picture Arthur being "soothing", it didn't work. So demanding will have to do.)

Slowly, Merlin stops thrashing about and calms to a manageable state. Arthur puts a hand to the boy's forehead and frowns.

"His fever is high. We should cool him down. Gwen, get some water," he commands. "Please," is added as an afterthought, and the girl runs off and returns with a cold compress, which she lays on the boiling brow of her houseguest.

She knows she shouldn't be feeling this way, but she can't help but be aware of a sense of jealousy in the back of her mind. _She_, Guinevere, had been the one taking care of Merlin. Doing her best to tend to his every need, bringing him food and water, letting him stay in her house and sleep in her bed. She's motherly; Arthur is awkward and not very helpful, but whose name is he calling out when he has nightmares from the fever? Gwen is offended; after all she did for him to make him comfortable, he yells for Arthur?

She sighs and rinses out the cool compress, which is warmed by his fever.

"Thanks for doing this," he mumbles when he's coherent again.

"It's no trouble, really," she replies. Well, at least he appreciates her efforts.

"Feeling any better now, _Mer_lin? That last fever spike really scared… Gwen," Arthur interjects, leaning against the wall away from the warlock.

"Yeah, much better. I can think straight, at least. Everything still hurts, but I'll live."

"You better. Someone needs to polish my armor, clean my chambers, deliver my breakfast… need I go on?"

"You've got George for that. And from what you've told me, he seems… efficient."

"Efficient, yes, but so bloody _boring!_ If a competent servant was at the top of my priorities list, you would have been out of the job a long time ago."

"So you do keep me around for my wit and charm!"

"They're your only redeeming qualities."

"You'd be surprised. I'm actually quite good at saving your life."

"Doing something twice doesn't make you good at it," the Prince replies, remembering the dagger Merlin had protected him from and the poison the servant drank for him.

"I've had more practice than you know."

"Oh, shut up _Mer_lin. You must be delusional from your fever."

"Whatever you say, prat."

"Dollop head."

"That's my term!"

"I know, and it's ridiculous."

"Then stop using it!" Both boys laugh, and Arthur reaches out to roughly tousle the warlock's hair, but remembers the pain that it will cause. He stands to leave.

"Well, I should be going. Be sure to stay alive, Merlin. It's horribly boring not having you around."

"Let me guess, George is replacing me?"

"How did you know?"

"I could tell by your tone."

"Well, yes. So get better quickly. That's an order. And as soon as you're well enough, by in my chambers bright and early."

"Yes, _Sire._"

Arthur smiles, and kisses Gwen lightly on the cheek before leaving.

It takes another week, but finally Merlin does recover, and relieves George of his duties and relieves Arthur of George.

END

Thanks for reading! Let me know how you liked it. Or if you didn't. That's cool too. I know the ending was rushed, but the only part I really wanted to play up was the "Merlin shouts out for Arthur and Gwen is jealous". I thought it was cute. Thanks again! :D:D LOVE YOU ALL!


	8. Mono

Hello my patient readers! Sorry I've taken so long to update. My motivation is at an all time low. But wait no more! Here's the next chapter!

Disclaimer: I _still_ don't own Merlin.

Yet another request in this story. Please review telling me how you liked it! I've been getting mixed reviews about the first person point of view, so for this chapter, I'll go back to third person past tense and see how it feels.

Mono

Merlin felt terrible. Nauseous, fevered, chilled, and exhausted, his head ached terribly and his throat felt sore and scratchy. He was sure that he probably looked like he was suffering as much as he was, too. He had woken up almost a week ago too sick to even get out of bed, nonetheless go do chores for Arthur. Gaius told him that he would be on bed-rest for at _least _a week more, and even then he may not be well enough to go anywhere.

And so, he was stuck, bored and alone, in his room. Feeling awful and awfully sorry for himself, he huffed and rolled over on his bed, nuzzling under the blankets further to ward off the shivering to no avail.

He laid there like this for some time, drifting in and out of sleep. It would have been almost comfortable if he weren't so sick.

Meanwhile, Gaius stood at a table, mixing up various potions and drafts, most of them for Merlin, but some for other people around the castle.

It was midday; the air was warm and sticky with humidity. That's when the young Prince Arthur made his entrance, knocking politely on the door. He knew he didn't _have_ to knock, but he could never bring himself to barge in on Gaius; that would be rude. The physician was a good and loyal friend.

In the Prince's hands was a pair of boots, slightly scuffed, but the shiny black leather still looked nearly perfect.

"Gaius, is Merlin awake?"

"Off and on, Sire."

"Ah. How is he feeling?"

"Not very well, I'm afraid. He'll live, but this virus is particularly unpleasant to experience. He's in quite a lot of discomfort. Anyway, is that all, or is there something I can do for you?"

"Yes, there is actually. When Merlin awakens next, give him these. They're filthy and he needs to shine them."

"But Sire, he's ill. Surely you could have another servant do it?"

"No Gaius, that will never do. My father is holding a very important meeting this evening, and I have to look the part. Merlin knows how to get the job done right. Besides, knowing him, he's probably begging for something to do. Laying in bed all day doesn't suit him well, I'm sure."

"If you insist, I suppose I have no choice…"

"Thank you, Gaius. Well, I must be going. Be sure to give him the boots. Goodbye now."

"Goodbye, Arthur."

With that, the door closed behind the Prince and Gaius stood in the middle of the room staring at the boots. He knew it would do no good to get angry, but he couldn't help but think of how selfish the young man was being.

Nevertheless, when Merlin stirred once more, he handed him the boots, a rag, and a small container of shoe-shine.

"Prince Arthur wanted me to give you this. He wants you to clean them. Are you well enough?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Even shining the royal prat's boots is less boring than what I've been doing."

Merlin sat on the floor with the boots and began to buff at the small, almost invisible scuffs on the toes. Gaius exited the room to cook some broth for the young man to eat.

While shining the second shoe, he noticed light streaming from the bottom. A hole? Why would Arthur have given him boots with a hole in the sole? (A/N: IGNORE THE UNINTENTIONAL RHYMING.)

He turned it upside-down to survey the damage and a piece of paper fell into his lap. He picked it up curiously and read it.

_Dear Useless Manservant,_

_Hello, Merlin. How has your lie-in been? I'm sure you've missed your chores. Especially mucking out the stables. I just wanted to inform you that although I'm not really concerned, I would have at least had the decency to come make sure you weren't wasting away in your room, but my father has forbidden it until you're no longer contagious. And, while I'm thinking about it, I hope you recover quickly. Your absence is inconveniencing me._

_Arthur Pendragon_

Merlin smiled. So Arthur did care, after all. That was nice.

After patching up the hole and getting the boots to a sufficient state of glossiness, Merlin handed them to Gaius for him to return to Arthur when he returned later that evening to pick them up.

That happened not half an hour later.

Arthur thanked Gaius and told him to tell Merlin thanks, too. After exiting the physician's chambers, he reached inside the boot to make sure Merlin had found his note. He felt paper brush his fingertips.

_Blast! He didn't find it. That bloody idiot._

He pulled the paper out to put on the boots and opened it out of curiosity. To his surprise, it wasn't his note, it was a different one, shorter, and in Merlin's handwriting.

_Dear Prat,_

_Thanks for your concern. I'll be fine. I'm actually feeling much better already. I should be back to work soon, but don't feel obligated to save any chores for me. _

_Love, Merlin_

Arthur couldn't help but smile at the use of the word "love". Overly-affectionate dallop-head.


	9. Concussion

Hello my lovely sugar lumps!

I really want to apologize about the ridiculous gaps of time between these fics. I'm going to try to do better, I promise! But with taking the ACT, finishing the school play, regular school work, and writing my actual novel, I've been really struggling to motivate to do anything but sleep.

Anyway, enough excuses. Thank you all for waiting so patiently!

This next chapter is inspired by a recent… accident I had. School plays are dangerous, and when they say "blood, sweat, and tears", they mean all three quite literally. Or maybe I'm just a wreck. Oh, and I'm trying to focus on adding more dialogue—because that's always a good time. Without further ado—onward!

Concussion

There is nothing more irritating than being late. I never could stand it. Merlin is late nearly every single day, but I have come to accept that as just a fact of life. However, being late myself is a different story. I have a certain status to uphold—you know, sovereign ruler of Camelot. No big deal or anything, Merlin. Just waltz in whenever you please.

When, finally, my manservant makes his appearance, he apologizes, of course. But that doesn't make me any less tardy, nor does it calm the irritated heads of the nearby kingdoms that are waiting for me in the dining hall downstairs.

It doesn't even sound sincere.

"_Mer_lin. Do you have any idea how late you are?"

"I said I was sorry, Sire. Gaius had me-"

"I don't care w_hat _Gaius had you doing; your first obligation is to me. It is your job to be present when I need you here."

"In all fairness, I do have other things to do, Arthur…"

"Things more important than ensuring that I'm where I need to be when I need to be there? What kinds of things could you possibly have to do, _Mer_lin?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, shifting uncomfortably, he has the audacity to ask, "Shall I get your breakfast, Sire? Or would you like to get out of bed first?"

I've had enough of his cheek. My face turns red with anger, and he starts to retreat from the room. Playfully, as if it were some sort of game. Taking a heavy metal goblet from the nightstand next to my bed, I chuck it at his head, as usual.

It hits him square in the back of the head, as usual.

He drops to the ground, as usual.

Wait.

That's not normal.

I wait for him to get back up, complaining about how mean I am to him, but it doesn't happen. After a few seconds of silence, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and lean over, so my manservant is just barely in view.

He lies there, face down, unmoving.

"Merlin?"

When he doesn't answer, I make my way to his side. There is a medium-sized lump on his head already from where the metal came in contact it, a bleeding gash in the center.

He begins to stir, and relief washes over me like a crashing wave. I sigh without realizing it, and roll my eyes to cover it up. It's really not like I was _worried_ or anything.

"Arthur? What happened?" he asks, flipping over from his stomach to his back.

"I sort of… knocked you unconscious with a goblet."

"You _what_?"

"Never mind that, how do you feel?"

He surveys himself in a way that only a physician's apprentice would, before replying, "My head hurts quite a bit, but other than that, I'm fine."

"Good."

He starts to sit up, and I reach out to stop him, but he clutches his head and lays back down before I have the chance.

"Ooh, dizzy."

That's probably not good.

"Should I have someone get Gaius?"

Shaking his head, he closes his eyes and reaches up to cover his eyes with his arm. I walk away to begin getting dressed. I'm unpardonably late for the meeting downstairs and need to get ready. Suddenly, just as I'm picking up a shirt to change in to, he shoots into a sitting position.

I hold the clothing article in my hand and stare at him; he looks at me and smiles nervously.

"All of a sudden I feel nauseous."

"You should see Gaius. Take the rest of the day off, if you need to."

"It's just a little head trauma, no problem."

"Don't be dramatic, Merlin."

I continue dressing while he stands up and makes his way over to help me. He gets about halfway across the room before clutching the back of a chair and putting a hand to his face with his eyes closed. Once again interrupted, I walk over and help him to sit in the chair. His face is pale, far too pale to be healthy.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think so. Just queasy."

"Let's go see Gaius, alright?"

"Right now? I'm so comfortable here…"

"_Mer_lin!"

"Fine, fine. No need to be such a prat about it."

We start to walk to the physician's chambers, and everything goes smoothly until we get about halfway there.

That's when Merlin looks at me with glazed eyes and asks, "Where are we going?"

A twinge of concern wedges itself in my stomach, but I don't let it show.

"You must've really knocked yourself stupid. We're going to see Gaius, remember?"

Pushing the guilt of the whole situation to the back of my mind, I watch as Merlin's face switches from utter confusion into a slow recognition.

"Oh yeah," he replies. Well, at least he's not completely gone.

I knock on the door to Gaius's chambers before entering with a somewhat incoherent Merlin trailing not far behind.

"Sire?" the physician questions, raising one eyebrow as he eyes me up and down for damage. I thrust my servant in front of me.

"He's had a bit of a head injury."

We sit him down and Gaius begins to examine his ward's wound. The lump has increased in size since I last checked, but the blood is no longer flowing.

"What happened?"

"Well, he was late and mouthing off…"

"Yes?"

"So I sort of… threw a goblet at his head… and it knocked him unconscious."

The old man opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again, obviously trying to quell a quiet rage. For a brief and ridiculous second I fear for my life. His attention is back on Merlin as he makes the slightest whimpering noise and raises one hand to his temple and squeezes his eyes shut.

"Merlin? I need to know your symptoms. Headache? Nausea? Obviously confusion and troubles formulating lucid thoughts."

I think about saying "nothing new there," but figure that will not set well with Gaius, who is now mixing a potion of some sort.

"Yes to all of that."

"Anything else?"

"He was having some memory trouble on the way here," I chime in, and the physician nods.

"I'm _so _tired. Can I sleep now?"

"After you drink this. It should help with the pain," he says, handing Merlin the concoction. He downs it and makes a face of disgust, but says nothing, simply flips over and falls straight asleep.

Needless to say I miss my meeting. However, Merlin comes back after a few days of rest, and his brain seems no more dysfunctional than before.

Sorry the ending was really rushed. But I wanted to get this done. You guys probably thought I'd given up on this fic completely… Nope!

Just to clarify, my concussion was nowhere near this bad. Just a headache and nausea. But I added dramatic effect—plus I _love_ to torture Merlin. :D

Thanks for reading! I'm still working on requests, but if anyone has any, I'm open! They don't even have to be for specific maladies. They can be characters or lines you guys want me to include, more or less bromance, etc.

Thank you all! :D


	10. Insomnia and Exhaustion

Greetings, loves! I'm truly sorry that I have no motivation to update ever. It's not fair to you all, who wait so patiently… but it can't be helped. All I can do is try harder to update with frequency!

Alright. I'm aiming for a really good chapter this time. The past few have been less than impressive. I'm going to spend some time and effort on this one—you guys are worth it!

Please review! :D

Insomnia and Exhaustion

The hunt is going swimmingly. Really, it's the best one Arthur has had in a very long time. For the first time in ages, the group is turning back because the horses can't carry more meat, rather than because Merlin has frightened away every living creature within a 10 kilometer radius.

In fact, he's hardly said a word through the whole trip. Arthur barely noticed, contented with conversation from Gwaine and Lancelot, that he has been lagging behind, not prattling on like he normally does.

Arthur stops and waits for him, and he jogs when he sees the Prince standing patiently staring at him. They walk together for a while, slowly, and Arthur notices that his servant's face is gleaming with a thin veil of sweat, and his breath comes in rapid puffs.

"Tired already, Merlin?"

He glares. _Of course I'm tired, you prat. I've been on lookout for two nights in a row and haven't gotten a chance to sleep,_ he thinks, but says nothing. Instead he only nods. Reaching a grassy clearing in the forest, Arthur stops his horse.

"Well, here looks like as good a place as any to rest for the night. It's starting to get dark, so we'll light a fire and cook some dinner before going to sleep."

They stop, and Merlin begins to unpack the necessary supplies from the horses, but is not doing a very good job. He keeps stumbling. Arthur builds the fire while Lancelot prepares the meat to roast, and Gwaine relieves Merlin of his duties after a particularly heavy sleeping pack causes his knees to buckle and the bag to fall into the dirt.

"Why don't you rest a while, I've got the rest of this stuff," the knight offers.

"Are you sure?" Merlin asks.

"Absolutely. You look like you could fall asleep right here. I'll wake you up to eat."

"I really think I should be awake so I can help with-"

"Oh, just sleep, Merlin. After all, you must be able to stay awake through your half of guard duty tonight, right?" Arthur interrupts.

"My half?" he inquires, looking confused.

"Yes, you heard me. You don't look like you could stay up another full night, so I'll share the position. Just for tonight, of course."

"Oh, well, thank you, Arthur. That's very kind…" he says slowly.

"Don't get sentimental, _Mer_lin. I simply wouldn't want to be killed in the night because _someone_ couldn't keep from nodding off," he jokes, punching him in the arm lightly.

He lies down, facing away from the knights, and a silence falls over the clearing. The chirping of the birds slowly recedes into an eerie quiet, with only the occasional owl's call mixed with the constant song of crickets. Fireflies light at random, speckling the dimming forest with yellow glow that interrupts the darkness.

Lancelot has finished cooking the meal, and serves it into four bowls. Arthur takes that as the hint to wake his sleeping servant, and tiptoes over to him, trying not to make noise and startle him. Last time he did that, he remembers, he ended up with a sword dangerously close to his neck.

He reaches down to shake him lightly.

"Merlin-"

"I'm awake," is the answer I receive before my hand even makes contact with his arm. "I couldn't sleep."

"No? Why not?" He certainly looks tired enough.

"Just couldn't."

"I find that hard to believe. Something on your mind?"

He looks away without answering, and Arthur sighs before handing him a bowl of rabbit stew. After eating a few bites, he says he's full and turns back over to sleep once more. Ordinarily the Prince would argue, tell him to eat more, but Merlin looks like he could use the rest more than the food.

"Will you wake me in a few hours so I can keep watch?"

"I don't think that's necessary tonight; Gwaine, Lancelot, and I can handle it. I don't want you falling asleep on our journey home tomorrow. Because you're not riding on my horse with me if you can't stay on yours."

"Not that we would both fit."

"How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not fat!"

"Of course not! Not yet."

"Merlin!"

"So, wake me in a few hours?"

"I already told you that it's not necessary."

"But I want you to."

"And if I say no?"

"Then I'll just have to stay up until then."

"Fine. You're impossible. Every other trip you complain about guard duty, and now I can't get you to skip it. You really are a riddle, Merlin."

"I trust you to wake me. Thank you, Sire."

Maybe five minutes later, Merlin's chest begins to rise and fall in a steady rhythm, signifying sleep.

"You're not really going to make him stay up half the night, are you Princess? I'll take his place," Gwaine whispers.

"Of course I'm not. What kind of person do you think I am?"

"A selfish-"

"Don't answer, Gwaine, I'm not above throwing one of my knights into the stocks."

He shuts his mouth, and the click of his teeth colliding is audible. Arthur smirks.

"No, I was never planning on waking him up. But he wouldn't sleep unless I promised. Why is he being so difficult?"

"Maybe he feels guilty," Lancelot chimes in, having overheard the conversation from where he was cleaning out the bowls. He takes a seat on a rock across from Gwaine and next to Arthur, forming a small, tight triangle around the fire.

"Guilty? Merlin? Of what?" Arthur asks incredulously.

"He carries more of a burden than you know, Sire. He feels very responsible for everything that happens to everyone. Every time a knight dies, or is injured, he blames himself."

"Really? Why… Why would he never tell me that?"

"The boy is complicated, my lord. He doesn't want to appear weak in front of you. Anyone really, but especially you."

Arthur scoffs. "Is that why he complains about the weight of my armor any time I have him carry something heavier than a shield?"

_Why would he be afraid of weakness?_

_Maybe he doesn't trust me to protect him_, Arthur thinks.

"Not _physically_ weak, Sire, but… he knows that you rely on him."

"Hang on!"

"You know it's true. You trust him. He wants to be there for you. Wants your faith in him, so you know you can go to him for advice and support."

"So what does that have to do with why he won't sleep?"

"That, I'm not entirely sure. I know he gets insomnia after battles. He can't sleep for thinking that he could have saved those who were wounded, killed. I fear he may be depriving himself out of guilt, refusing to sleep because he wants to keep guard. He wants to protect us-"

"Like he couldn't do for those who perished on our last excursion," Arthur finishes.

"Exactly."

_Why would he think anyone expects him to fight? He's not the protector. And he doesn't need to be_, Arthur contemplates_._

After a long silence, Gwaine speaks up.

"You two should get some sleep. I'll keep watch for a while."

"Alright. Wake me up when you've had enough, and I'll take over," offers Lancelot, and Gwaine nods, patting the former on the shoulder bracingly.

Just as they lay down to sleep, a strangled cry fills the air. Arthur's knight training kicks in immediately and he instinctively grabs his sword. However, a second, similar cry resounds, and he realizes that it's coming from Merlin.

Arthur sits up and moves to see what is causing servant's distress, and finds the young man to be asleep, albeit fitfully. Gwaine is already hovering over him, shaking him more violently than is really necessary in his panic.

The servant lets out a shout as his eyes fly open and he shoots into a sitting position.

"Merlin. You alright, mate?" Gwaine asks, one hand on the servant's shoulder, eyes probing him for injury.

"Uh, yeah. Fine. Just a nightmare. Sorry about that. Well, as long as I'm awake, you might as well rest. I'll take watch," he says, composing himself.

"We've got it tonight, Merlin. Sleep. You need it," Lancelot commands gently.

"Nah. I'm not likely to fall asleep again tonight, anyway."

"You have to at least _try, Mer_lin," Arthur chimes in.

"Don't you think I have?" he snaps, and softens when Arthur's eyes widen slightly. "I'm sorry. That was rude. I'm just… tired."

"You look it. Why can't you sleep?"

"A lot on my mind. For the best, though, right? At least I won't be dozing off tonight…"

"Yes, you'll just be fainting the next time we're attacked by a bunch of bandits or a giant beast, that's definitely preferable." Arthur rolls his eyes, words dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, I can't very well fix it, so I should at least be productive, right? Make the best of a rotten situation and all that?"

"Come now, mate. There must be something we can do to get you to sleep. Drink some hot tea… or the Princess could sing you a lullaby!" offers Gwaine, earning a hard punch in the shoulder from said "Princess".

"Nope. It'll just go away on its own, eventually. All there is to do is wait it out."

A silence follows, so long that Gwaine and Lancelot drift off and begin to snore, leaving Arthur and Merlin awake alone.

"So, a lot on your mind, eh? Would it help to… you know, talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Oh, come, Merlin, don't be that way. You can trust me. I like to think… I mean, we get on pretty well, right?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Drop the stiff-talk. Formality and politeness don't suit you."

"Fine, prat."

"Better. Anyway… I like you just fine. Don't you feel the same?"

"This has got nothing to do with whether I like you, Arthur. You're a good man, and one day will be a great King. I trust you with my life. I just don't want to involve you in matters you wouldn't understand."

"What makes you think I wouldn't understand?"

"Arthur, please. Let's just drop it."

"Right. Upsetting you won't help. Have you tried doing anything special when you can't sleep? I'm sure Gaius has a few tricks up his sleeve."

"I've tried everything. Drinking tea, deep breathing, every position imaginable, meditation, music… everything."

"Try rubbing your stomach."

"…What?"

"Lie on your back and rub your stomach. It sounds crazy, but it works. Believe me."

"I'm willing to try anything."

The warlock turns from his side to his back, and, after shooting one more questioning glance to Arthur, who nods, begins to sweep small circles on his abdomen with his fingertips.

"Not like that, idiot. You've got to…" Arthur moves closer and rubs a large, continuous circle onto his servants stomach with the palm of his hand. Merlin's eyes close, and Arthur hesitates, but does not stop. After a few minutes, Arthur is the only one awake, elbows on his knees keeping watch, smiling to himself.

Unfortunately, Merlin's sleep is neither restful nor long. Plagued by nightmares, he tosses and turns, even whimpering occasionally. Arthur contemplates waking him up, but decides that even a nightmare-filled sleep is better than none at all.

However, Merlin's cries only escalate until he is twitching and moaning terribly. At this point, the Prince decides that it would be too cruel to allow the boy to remain trapped in his nightmares, and shakes him awake. He shoots up with a start, heart racing, trembling, and drenched in sweat.

"Take it easy. Calm down. It's alright," Arthur mumbles, helping the shaking boy to sit up and drink water from a skin at his side.

"S-sorry," is all Merlin can say back, voice weak and wavering.

"Don't apologize. Want to tell me about it?"

"Not especially."

"Didn't think so."

Merlin curls up slightly, clutching his stomach.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asks exasperatedly. He knows that it's not Merlin's fault, but still can't help but be slightly irritated by the whole mess.

"Fine. Just a stomachache. And a little nausea. It accompanies the nightmares, sometimes."

Arthur grunts in response, and the boys sit in silence for a long time.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Arthur asks suddenly.

Merlin is caught off guard. "Do what, Arthur?" he asks confusedly.

"Blame yourself. For things that aren't your fault. Things that aren't in your control."

"I really wish I knew what you are talking about."

"Lancelot told me you can't sleep after battles for feeling guilty. Why do you do that? You're a servant. It's not at all your duty to protect anyone."

_If you only knew,_ Merlin thinks.

"I guess I just… I don't know. Wish I could do more. People die, and get hurt, and… well, I just feel like there's so much more I could do."

"I know the feeling, but… Alright, look. I'm the Prince of Camelot, and a knight. People are depending on me all the time to provide them what they need. One thing you've got to learn is that you can't save everyone. You can only do your best and, if you always make a decision with the greater good in mind, then things will turn out fine. It will be difficult, and sacrifices, innocent ones, will be made. And it's terrible. But you've got to picture your goal, and make that your reason for acting. Then, even if bad things happen, and you can't save everyone, you're still one step closer to your objective. It doesn't make it much easier, I understand, but… hopefully just enough to ease the nightmares?"

"Thank you. I think that helped, really. Sometimes you're not as much of a prat as you seem. Sometimes you can even border on human," the warlock teases. Arthur punches him in the arm.

"And you're not always the idiot you'd have us think you are. The wheels actually sometimes turn in that head of yours. I'm surprised smoke isn't pouring out those ridiculous ears."

"There is nothing ridiculous about my ears!"

Arthur laughs, and Merlin joins in. Another silence follows.

"The sun is rising," Arthur notes, and indeed it is. Merlin nods, puts his hands behind his head, and sighs. He's never been this exhausted, and is really wondering if he will be able to last another whole day on the energy he has left. Not only does he not have much, but every movement takes up far more than it should.

By the time they are packed and ready to head out, Merlin is exhausted. Bone-weary, dead-on-his-feet, down-for-the-count exhausted. All he wants to do is go home and sleep, and knowing that sleep is a luxury just beyond his reach is frustrating and torturous. He groans.

"Everything alright?" Lancelot asks.

"Yeah. Just exhausted," the boy replies, flashing a pained smile towards the older man, who looks sympathetic. In truth, Merlin feels awful. His muscles ache, his head throbs and swims, his stomach hurts, and he feels as if he could fall over at any moment. But there's nothing he can do, so he doesn't complain.

"Merlin! Bring me my sword, will you?" Arthur calls, and Merlin complies, smiling at Lancelot once more.

Just as he reaches the Prince, a dizzy spell washes over him, vertigo crashing into his brain, and he staggers and nearly falls. Arthur raises one eyebrow.

"Just a little unsteady on my feet, Sire," Merlin smiles and laughs nervously. Arthur sighs, but says nothing.

Instead, he reaches up and ruffles Merlin's hair in a brotherly fashion, but stops after a few seconds. His hand slides down before resting at the boy's forehead for a few seconds, then dropping back to his side.

"He's got a bloody fever!" Arthur calls behind him to Gwaine and Lancelot.

"Really? Is he ill?" Lancelot rushes over to Merlin, no doubt with intentions of mollycoddling him.

"Yeah. It's not high, but definitely there. I don't know; can you get a fever from not sleeping?" Arthur questions.

"Yes, exhaustion can cause a fever. But it's no big deal. It's low-grade, we should just head back to Camelot as planned," Merlin replies.

"Are you sure?" Gwaine questions.

Merlin nods. They ride off without another word, and everyone is quiet for a long time. _ Trips sure seem longer without Merlin's incessant chattering,_ Arthur notes. As they ride longer and the day grows hotter, the young servant's energy begins to wear thin. He is pale and sweating. Stopping suddenly, nearly causing Gwaine to crash into the back of him in the process, he sways on his feet.

"You alright, mate?" Gwaine asks.

"I'll be fine. Just give me a second," he replies weakly. Lancelot crosses to him and guides him to a sitting position slowly. Once there, Merlin rests his head on his knees for so long that Arthur begins to wonder if he hasn't fainted or fallen asleep, until he sighs and begins to stand.

Arthur presses a cool hand to Merlin's forehead once again.

"You're still warm," he states.

"How do you feel?" asks Gwaine.

"Like I haven't slept in five days… and everything hurts," is the reply.

"Did you bring a pain relieving potion with you in your first aid pouch?" Arthur suggests, but Merlin shakes his head.

"I brought something that would be helpful for pain from wounds, not fatigue. It wouldn't do much." (A/N: Just for the record, this probably does not exist. But in this world it does, for I am the author, and it allows me to torture Merlin for a bit longer… and I'm evil.)

"Well, we're only an hour's walk to Camelot, anyway. Then you can go to Gaius, get a potion, and take some time off to sleep," Arthur says, being uncharacteristically optimistic.

"You're giving me time off? But how will you get dressed!" Merlin says with an expression of overly dramatic mock-horror.

"I can dress myself perfectly well, thank you!"

"Yes, I know. I hear that backwards shirts are very popular this year."

"_Merlin._"

"Shut up?"

Arthur makes an affirmative noise and rude face, at which Merlin smiles.

Stumbling. Merlin keeps stumbling. Whether he's tripping over his own feet that he's too tired to pick up properly or he's getting dizzy spells, the knights aren't sure, but it does not go unnoticed. When he actually falls, Arthur decides that enough is enough.

He stops and wordlessly begins to unpack meat from his horse.

"What are you-?"

"Hush, Merlin," he says.

After ridding the horse of over 50 kilograms of animal, he turns to Merlin.

"You're riding the horse the rest of the way home."

"Arthur, that's not-"

"I will have no arguments. The last thing we need is you fainting. If you swoon because you didn't follow my orders, I'm leaving you where you lie and you'll have to find your own way back to Camelot," Arthur threatens, no nonsense in his voice or eyes. Merlin can't imagine he's serious, but it's not a risk he's willing to take.

The warlock clambers onto the horse's back and rides, drifting in and out of various states of lucidity through the rest of the trip.

When they reach Camelot, the first place the group goes is to Gaius's chambers. The knights walk an exhausted and semi-conscious Merlin through the doors and into his bed, where Gaius checks him over as he sleeps.

"Is anything wrong with him, Gaius? We thought he was just tired, but the fever was a bit concerning…" Lancelot explains to the physician.

"He is merely exhausted. A few days of good sleep will set him right," the old man answers confidently, smiling at the knight's concern.

"When he wakes up, please tell him he has leave until he recovers fully. I don't want him back until he is fully rested," Arthur commands.

"Yes, Sire. Thank you."

"Yeah, thanks, Arthur," Merlin says.

"You're awake!" declares Gwaine, ever-observant.

"More's the pity. Do you think you'll be able to sleep now that you're back in Camelot?" Arthur teases, but not without hints of concern.

"I'm pretty sure I've reached the point where I can do nothing else but sleep."

"Good. Take the time you need, but not a moment more! This isn't permission to skip out on your chores, _Mer_lin."

"Of course not, my lord. Have faith in my sense of duty!"

Arthur rolls his eyes.

"Just go to sleep, you cabbage-brain."

"Leave the clever insults to me, Sire," Merlin mumbles before drifting into a comfortable and much-needed sleep.

DONE. Finally. This took forever. I hope you like it. It's the first one I've felt confident about uploading in a while, and the longest. Still, it's probably not great. I apologize for any mistakes. Please let me know how you like it! And I'm still taking requests!


	11. Flu

Hello, patient readers! Thank you all for waiting.

This might have more than one chapter, since I'm putting so many different things in it. Sorry for the long wait. I got my wisdom teeth out… and there's no hope of writing a coherent story when you're on so much Vicodin you can't get off the couch. XD

Well, here's the next chapter, without further ado!

Flu

Merlin woke up feeling less than satisfactory, and things only went downhill from there.

Upon leaving Gaius' chambers, he had thought that he had come down with a cold—a headache, sore limbs, and sore throat being all that plagued him. Annoying, but nothing debilitating enough to stop him from trying to work. He made his way into Arthur's chambers, late, as usual.

Arthur was so used to Merlin not knocking on the door that he didn't even say anything. The morning passed rather uneventfully, with the servant dressing his master and then moving on to his chores.

However, the warlock's health deteriorated rapidly. His head was pounding painfully, and he shivered with chills. Aching muscles and a looming lightheadedness prevented him from doing any more chores, and he succumbed to sitting on the floor in the middle of Arthur's chambers, willing away the dizziness that was threatening to overcome him.

The Prince happened to walk into his chambers at this very moment, and was filled with anger upon seeing his lazy manservant taking a break so early in the afternoon.

"What _are_ you doing, _Mer_lin?" he asked exasperatedly. Arthur's rage dissipated into worry when a pale face, shining with sweat, looked up at him through vision clouded by a grainy blackness around the edges.

"Sorry, Sire. Would it be alright if I retired early today?" he asked, hands shaking but voice steady, if nasally and hoarse.

Normally the Prince would have said no, and made some sort of remark about Merlin's lack of work ethic, but he thought better of it. He walked over to the still seated warlock and laid a hand on his forehead.

"You've got a fever. Why didn't you stay at home to begin with, idiot?"

"I didn't have a fever earlier…" he replied weakly.

"Fair enough. You should go back to Gaius'. Need an escort?"

Merlin chuckled. "I'm not that sick, prat."

Merlin stood and, with some effort, left Arthur's chambers. He was outside, skin cooled uncomfortably by the autumn chill in the air, when he heard it. A loud noise, a scream. Merlin spun around, but saw nothing.

_I must be hearing things…_ he thought, until the sound resounded again. More desperate this time. He raced in the direction of the cry, ignoring the pain in his head and muscles that pounded with every step he took. He ran and ran, finally reaching a small, grassy area not far from Gaius' home, and the shriek rang out again. This time, however, it was close. So close that he could almost feel the vibration. This was no sound a human could emit.

When he looked behind him, he saw it. Or rather, he saw its knees, because those were at eye-level with him. Looking up, he saw a lion. The head of a giant black snake bit at him, palm-length fangs dripping venom. The head of a goat, eyes unfocused and pointing different directions, sprouted from the creature's back, while a dragon's head spat fire at nothing in particular. It lunged, and Merlin could barely register terror before blackness overcame him. The last thing he heard was the sound of wings flapping heavily and rhythmically.

Meanwhile, Arthur sat in his room, reading over some paperwork.

Gwen suddenly rushed in, frenzied and panicked.

"Arthur, Arthur! You've got to come quickly! There's a—a-!" she cried.

"Slow down, Gwen, I can't understand you. What happened?"

"Oh, Arthur! There's a beast, a huge one! Running through Camelot! It attacked a servant outside!"

"A servant? Who?" Arthur asked. Fear bubbled in his stomach, but he tried to force it down. Merlin.

"I don't know; Gaius is on his way. I only just heard it from a knight. Apparently the servant is dead."

"Bring me to Gaius," he ordered softly. The maidservant nodded and scurried off, Arthur in toe.

Merlin woke up in Gaius' chambers confused and sore. He remembered the beast, and vaguely wondered if it was all a fever-induced hallucination, when Gaius came into view, looking relieved.

"How do you feel?" he asked, and Merlin smirked.

"Sore, sick… Why? What happened?"

"Do you not remember?" the physician's eyebrow raised.

"I'm not sure… I remember a monster, but that may have been a dream…"

"It was no dream, Merlin. What attacked you was a beast called a chimera. It has the body of a lion, and four heads. One is the lion's, one, a goat, another, a snake, and the last, a dragon. Its wings are red, and tipped with a poisonous spike. It's quite dangerous, and already killed another servant from the castle."

"That's… nightmarish. Let me guess, I've got to go kill it now, right?"

"It can only be destroyed with magic," the old man answered regretfully.

_Arthur had hurried to find Gaius. He tried to push the thought out of his mind, but it kept surfacing: please don't let it be Merlin._

_When he found the physician, he was standing over the body of a man whose face and body was covered with a sheet._

"_Gaius?" he asked._

"_Sire, you should go back to the castle. No one knows where the beast went—"_

"_Is Merlin alright?" Gwen interjected._

"_Yes, he's fine. Inside, resting. He, too, was attacked. But he'll be alright, just a minor concussion. He's come down with the flu, as well, but that is unrelated."_

_Both Gwen and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief._

"_And this servant?"_

"_Dead, I'm afraid."_

_Arthur stiffened. "I'll find the beast that did this, and kill it. I'll ride out tonight with some knights. It won't kill another innocent civilian."_

"_I wouldn't do that, Sire. This is no ordinary beast."_

"_What makes it different?"_

"_Well… it is nearly impossible to kill."_

"_It has to be done. Is there anything I should know?"_

_Gaius hesitated, but finally sighed. "Just be careful."_

Arthur replayed the conversation with Gaius in his mind, words echoing without his control. He shined his sword quickly before putting it in his sheath. A replacement servant helped him into his chainmail and armor. When he stepped out of his room and walked down the hall, he was greeted by several knights.

"Any man who is not prepared to die tonight should leave now. You will all be facing a chimera, a hellish creature that will more than likely kill every one of us."

No one moved.

"I thank you men for your loyalty."

Meanwhile, Merlin had long-since left in search of the chimera.

"_So, I have to go and find it before Arthur kills himself trying."_

"_I'm afraid so, my boy."_

"_Well, if I'm going to fight a giant four-headed monster, I can't very well do it in this condition. Can you give me something for the fever?"_

"_I'm sorry, Merlin, but anything I could give you would put you to sleep. You stand a better chance fighting fever-ridden than you do drowsy from a tonic," he replied, sounding genuinely sympathetic._

"_Can I at least take something for the pain, then?"_

"_It would have the same side-effects, I fear."_

_Merlin sighed._

"_Well, wish me luck," he resigned, room spinning slightly as he stood._

"_Be careful," Gaius warned, pulling his apprentice in for a tight hug. "I only wish this wasn't such horrid timing."_

"_It'll be alright, Gaius. I promise. I'll kill the beast, then come back and sleep for a week."_

_Gaius laughed lightly. "I won't even tell Arthur you've gone to the tavern if he asks."_

_Merlin chuckled before heading out the door to face certain death._

He was roaming the forest, with no idea where the beast was, fever steadily climbing. Making an immense amount of noise as he traipsed through the crunchy leaves, hoping to attract the monster just to get the fight over with.

Arthur and his knights made their way through the forest, but they encountered the beast so quickly that they were not expecting it. Within ten minutes of entering the thick forest, a ghastly shriek resounded and one of the knights was picked up by sharp talons and thrown against a tree.

_Here goes everything,_ Arthur thought, before giving the order to the knights to attack with everything they had.

Merlin heard it, too. The scream. It was close, and he took off running.

Arthur approached the snake's head with his sword. Raising the blade, he chopped it off with not much difficulty.

It grew right back with a sickening suction sound.

Merlin reached the place where Arthur and the other knights were fighting the beast, assessed the situation-the Prince was in trouble-and wasted no time. One powerful spell brought the creature to its knees.

As the beast suddenly collapsed, Arthur looked up to see Merlin standing behind it, eyes glowing a gold color he had never before seen in eyes.

The chimera struggled to stand, but Merlin's magic was stronger than even its powerful muscles. The dragon head breathed fire at the warlock, and he narrowly escaped being badly burned by jumping quickly to the side. The snake head took this opportunity to lunge at him, sinking its needle-like fangs into the boy's arm, which he had raised instinctively to protect his face. He cried out, but didn't stop fighting. Merlin then used another spell, loudly and desperately, and the beast convulsed several times before becoming eerily still. Dead. He allowed himself to collapse into the dirt, sighing with relief.

Arthur had a choice. He had seen Merlin perform magic, and now the sorcerer was obviously injured and still sick, too hindered to make his way back to Gaius' chambers for healing. The Prince could either leave him where he lie, or spare his life.

Merlin didn't know whether Arthur had seen him use magic or not, but quite frankly, he didn't care. He was too exhausted. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he had promised Gaius that he would come home. Even if he would be executed the moment he entered Camelot, the warlock _would_ see Gaius again. He had promised. He stood and began to wander aimlessly in the forest, trying in vain to find his way out of the maze of trees that all looked the same and were becoming blurrier by the minute. He chose a direction at random and began walking.

"Where do you think you're going?" Arthur asked.

"Back to Camelot," was the bone-weary reply.

"You're facing the wrong direction, you idiot."

Arthur walked over and put his arm under Merlin's shoulders, while the latter leaned gratefully into the support. His legs felt rubbery and unable to sustain his body weight.

"Are you injured?" Merlin asks.

"Not a scratch," the Prince answers haughtily. "How about you? Did the snake head bite you?"

"Yeah, it did… It doesn't really hurt, though."

"Well, be that as it may, we need to get the poison out. Roll up your sleeve."

Merlin did as he was told, and Arthur took a firm grip of the servant's arm, realizing that it was clammy and hot. Arthur put a hand to his friend's forehead and was alarmed by the heat that radiated off it.

"Gods, you're boiling," he commented. Merlin nodded, bracing himself for the pain that was about to sear through his skin. Sure enough, the blade of Arthur's knife as it reopened the wound stung agonizingly. Arthur pressed his mouth to the wound and sucked venom out, feeling hot skin against his lips. He spat clear, and continued this for a few minutes until blood finally became the main liquid oozing from the cut. Arthur stood up, and Merlin followed, still leaning heavily on the former for support.

"So tell me, Merlin, why you felt the need to take it upon yourself to kill this monster? I'd have killed it soon," he asked before realizing he didn't want to know the answer quite yet.

"I just… um…" _There's no more hiding it, Arthur has to find out now or never,_ Merlin thought.

"I have—"

"You can explain everything to me in Gaius' chambers. Right now, let's just worry about getting you home before you cook from within, shall we?" Arthur interrupted. He knew what Merlin was about to say, and didn't want him to finish the thought. He was still deciding on what to do.

Knowing that this was a decision he had to make completely on his own was the hardest part for Arthur. If he told his father, Merlin would be burned at the stake immediately. And Merlin was the person he normally went to for advice when he needed it. Now he couldn't trust him anymore.

_Should I have him killed, or let him live?_

_By saving him now, you've answered that question already._

It wasn't as difficult a decision as he'd thought it would be. He didn't know how he felt about magic, but he knew how he felt about Merlin. Merlin had laid down his life for Arthur more than once, probably more times than he knew of. The fact that he hadn't trusted Arthur enough to tell him this secret made him feel more pity than anger, if he was being honest with himself.

By the time they reached Gaius' chambers, Merlin's arm was swollen where the snake had bitten it, and his fever had climbed into dangerous territory, as the manservant had begun to hallucinate.

As Gaius worked on the boy's wounds, bandaging cuts and mixing tonics, Arthur sat on a chair and mused.

"Gaius, do you think magic is evil?" he asked.

The old man froze, looking the Prince in the face.

"I know it is against the law," he avoided.

"That's not what I'm asking. I won't tell my father, no matter what your answer. Is magic evil?"

A sigh. "Magic… it's a powerful weapon. It can be used in so many different ways. It can heal, or destroy. It can protect, or endanger, and can be good, or evil. It all depends on who wields it, Sire. That is what I honestly believe."

"I agree. I really just needed to hear someone say it."

"Did you see something that changed your mind?" Gaius asked, trying to be nonchalant, but failing.

"By your asking that question, I believe you know what I saw. How long have you known about Merlin's magic?"

"Since he arrived in Camelot."

"And you've willingly harbored a sorcerer since then?"

"The boy is like a son to me, and he's done nothing but protect you since the moment you two met. I would protect him with my life," the physician answered seriously.

"Well, there won't be any need for that. I'll see that no harm comes to him, don't you worry."

"You've no idea what that means to me, and will mean to Merlin when he awakens, my lord," Gaius said smiling.

"How is he?"

"I'll live," answered the warlock.

"Merlin! How long have you been conscious?" the Prince asked.

"I heard most of your conversation with Gaius, if that's what you're asking. Or, at least, the important parts. The part about you not having me killed," Merlin smiled.

"How do you feel, my boy?" Gaius asked.

"Like hell. Remember that promise you made. I come home safe, and I get to sleep for a week," he responded, turning over onto his side.

"You've got chores to do, Merlin! I'm not going to condone a week-long lie-in unless you absolutely need it," Arthur interjected, but his tone was light.

"No sleeping before you drink these," Gaius held out three potions, for fever, pain, and combating the venom in his system. Merlin obeyed.

"Get another servant to bring you breakfast, I'm not waking up until a week from now!" Merlin teased.

"Just because I'm not hanging you for being a sorcerer, doesn't mean I won't do it for being a lousy servant!"

"Oh, Arthur, you don't mean that. You enjoy putting me in the stocks far too much to have me killed," Merlin pointed out, before adding, "And for the record, I'm a warlock, not a sorcerer."

"The first part is true. And what is the difference between the two?"

"I was born with magic," Merlin said tiredly.

"Really? That's… that's amazing. Explain it further."

"Read a book, for Pete's sake. I'm tired, sick, and hurt. I'm sleeping now."

"Stop being such a girl's petticoat, _Mer_lin. You can explain when you wake up. Which, for the record, will_ not_ be a week from now. You get four days, maximum."

The playful threat hit dead ears, as the warlock was already asleep. Arthur shook his head and left for his chambers—but not before stopping by the royal library to take out all the books he could find on warlocks.

Wow. Okay, that was my first reveal-fic. I wanted to try it out. It might have been a bit rushed at the end, but there will be a second chapter to this. I hope you enjoyed it!


	12. SORRY

I absolutely hate to do this to you all, but there will be no more chapters of this fic. I have terrible writer's block on this story.

I'm so sorry, but I have absolutely no motivation (as you can tell by my ridiculous lack of updates) and need to shift my focus onto other things…

But on that note! This fic is up for adoption. Anyone who would like to take over this idea and write more chapters for it is more than welcome to. I'd even give you the list of chapter ideas I have saved on my computer, and two halves of chapters I was going to upload but never finished.

Again. I'm terribly sorry. Thank you all for understanding.

Thanks for following up until this point! It's been fun!


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